


Animals Live Inside

by StephPencils1



Series: Charlotte Fisher Series [1]
Category: Tokyo Ghoul
Genre: AK, AnimalsLiveInside, Anorexia, Autism, CharlotteFisher, ED - Freeform, Ghoul, Human, Mental Illness, Multi, Mythology - Freeform, Serial Killer, Shuu Tsukiyama - Freeform, tokyo ghoul - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-27
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:21:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 44
Words: 127,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23343139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StephPencils1/pseuds/StephPencils1
Summary: Charlotte Fisher is many things—a sex-addicted anorexic, an enthusiastic academic, also a lonely perfectionist who’s obsessed with insects and mythology.Her only real friend is Trev—a thirteen year old goldfish whose always there for her.As you might expect, Charlotte is definetely not one to get involved with serial killers, stalkers, or francphilic ghouls.But that’s exactly what she’s gotten herself involved with.
Relationships: Tsukiyama Shuu/Original Female Character(s)
Series: Charlotte Fisher Series [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1678843
Comments: 6
Kudos: 31





	1. Prologue

M

** Prologue  **

** Tokyo, Japan- **

Beautiful.

Even when she didn't try, she managed to be effortlessly beautiful.

Everyone had noticed her walk in, she made sure of it. With her bleached hair and Burberry trench coat, she was a sight for sure.

She ordered a long expresso, perfect Japanese falling off her tongue as if it were native.

She took off her sunglasses and looked the barista in the eye, she smiled at him as she spoke.

She sat with her long legs crossed, her Saint Laurent bag next to her.

She accepted the expresso with a polite smile and looked out the window; elegance oozing out of her.

She was like a spider waiting for a fly to wander into her web.

The barista couldn't keep his eyes off her, so she lifted her skirt up just a little, moving her legs to reveal more skin.

She saw something out the window. Her prey.

A tiny black Mini had pulled up at the school opposite the café.

The students of Seinan Gakuin filed through the gates. The school was both a high school and a university, most of its students were only there because of their wealth.

Her own two children were two students there. Her husband occasionally did lectures there.

She wasn't there for them.

She watched a thin, dark-haired woman get out of the little Mini.

This was Katherine Raabe, a German woman who'd only moved to Japan a few years ago to teach literature. She did her rounds in most of Tokyo's universities and lived quite comfortably.

Raabe was only being watched so intently because she was having an affair with the woman's husband.

Or at least, they were on the brink of having an affair.

The woman didn't really know. She didn’t _need_ to know.

She watched Raabe race into the school—late, she supposed.

The woman sipped her expresso and checked the time. The barista was still looking at her, she touched her face and ran her fingers over her lips.

The woman licked her lips and stood, leaving most of her expresso. She took a final look at the barista, before leaving.

She walked until she reached an alleyway, then walked down it until she reached a corner to slip into.

She took the coat off, carelessly mashing it into her bag. She replaced it with a foldable macintosh. She removed her sunglasses and took off her blonde wig.

She wore her hair naturally as she went to find her car.

In her car, she redid her makeup, made herself look younger, and struggled to get her skirt off. She took out her contact lenses and replaced them.

The woman she'd been a few minutes earlier was gone—she'd never even

existed.

Just like that.

She started driving and parked twenty minutes away from her home. She walked to her home and changed.

She looked at her natural appearance; _beautiful_.

But she would have to change again, and again.

Changing genders, ages, race and body type was a chore but it was necessary.

She didn't question what she did, she just did it.

There was no plan, so she had to be careful.

She looked at a packet of stickers on the side—swans. This amused her.

She'd use them. But when?

When was she going to do it?

She didn't know.

Maybe that night or next week, who knew?

She yawned.

_Not now_. She thought. _Not today_.

She was bored but doing it now wouldn't be right.

Or maybe it would. She was getting desparate. Maybe now was best, as she was still sane enough to focus.

She'd start soon, she knew that much.

For now, she was going to go shopping.

And then, maybe, her work could begin.

**Oxfordshire, England-**

_Panting._

_Moaning._

A man crying out, ' _I'm almost there, keep going_ ', and a woman desperately trying to get him off.

A clock is gently tapping away in the background, and a fish pump whirs whilst a hamster pounds away on its wheel.

Then, finally, there is a final groan, and the man slides off the woman. He pants and nestles his head on a pillow.

He doesn't wait for the woman to finish, and she doesn't care.

The woman gets up and turns the light on. The man flinches.

"Woah...Why did you do that.?" He breathes and looks at her, squinting.

"Are you staying the night?" She asks.

"What—"

"Are you staying the night? I need to know."

"Well, I don't know yet." He smiles.

"It's a simple question." She folds her arms under her small breasts.

"Could you turn the light off?"

"I sleep with the light on."

"What?"

"I sleep with it on."

"Why? How old are you?" He jokes.

"Twenty-two. I'm afraid of the dark."

"Are you serious?"

"Yes."

"That's so... _childish_." He trails off to look at the children's toys and clothes around the room. How had he not noticed these before?

"Then leave."

"What's all that? Do you have a kid or something?"

She looks disgusted. "No. Do I look like I've had a child?"

"No. Just...all those toys."

"They're mine. Are you staying or not?"

"Do you want me to leave or something? Didn't you enjoy it?"

"No, I didn't. Now, I'm tired and I need sleep, and to sleep, I need certain conditions."

The man sighs. "Uh...Sure. Just turn that big light off."

"Thank you."

She ties up her blonde hair, her ribs protruding even more under her breasts.

The woman is too thin. Her eyes have black rings and her cheeks look puffy. Her skin is covered in lanugo, which she frequently shaves but it comes back like a weed.

She catches the man looking and tells him what it is. He asks the usual questions, which she answers whilst putting on underwear.

"Goodnight." She says, finally.

Before the man can speak, the woman is curled up in bed.

He falls asleep whilst she lies awake for hours.

The next morning, the woman wakes up just two hours after going to sleep.

She lifts weights in the living room and gets a homemade protein bar out of the fridge. She feeds a beautiful goldfish and picks up a tiny kitten.

She plays with it and kisses it, then feeds it and puts the smallest amount of watermelon in a lunchbox.

She strips to her underwear and tries her hardest to ignore how hideous and lumpy her body feels. She moves the tacky furniture and approaches a sturdy pole in the living room.

She puts on some music—Something by _Interpol_ or somekind of sensual song—and starts up a routine.

Dancing with the pole makes her forget about everything.

She ignores the self-hatred coiled up inside her like a gluttonous snake. She ignores the worries that her perfect studies could slip—she simply dances.

She starts off slow, stepping and flexing with the beat of the song. As it speeds up, so does she.

She twirls and manages her body weight with skill.

Despite the obvious malnourishment, this woman is strong. She can manage her body weight with ease thanks to a plethora of sports.

She lifts weights four times a week, yoga and dance every day, each time pushing herself. She has run and swam more times than she can remember.

And she enjoys every minute of it.

She dances through so many songs, but the movements start to become clumsy and she tires. As the songs start to slow, so does she.

It's _Don't Fear The Reaper_ by Blue Öyster Cult. One of her favourites.

She touches her waist, counting the ribs and measuring how her stomach expands with each inhale. She considers wrapping her waist in clingfilm but doesn’t have any left.

She changes into a baggy jumper, turning up the music and allowing herself to drown in the sound.

"Come on baby, don't fear the reaper." She mumbles, before humming.

As she boils the kettle the man emerges.

"Oh, uh. Morning. How long have you been up?"

"A few hours. Here, granola bar, coffee."

"Thanks. Cold, are you?"

"Freezing."

"Are you eating?"

"Oh, I ate." She lied.

He looks at the pole, now not so drunk as to not notice it. "What's that?"

"It's a pole."

"For what?"

"Dancing."

"Are you a stripper?"

"I used to be. I've got to go. If you could hurry up."

"Sure, just...Will I see you again?"

"Probably not."

"Do you go to the university? Oxford, I mean.”

"Yes, and the Open University.”

"Which University here?"

"Brasenose. Come on, time to go."

"I'm Christ Church."

“Right. Well, if you could get out now. I have to get to the library.”

The man huffs and leaves and the woman puts on a red coat and starts to walk to Brasenose.

She gets a flat white from Costa, then passes a Greggs. She stares at the window, looking at the doughnuts stuffed with cream and cupcakes topped with radioactive coloured icing.

She looks at the people eating sausage rolls and bacon baps in the window. She's disgusted.

_What fat, disgusting pigs. How could they have such disrespect for their bodies?_

She looks at her reflection in a mirror.

_I may be fat, but at least I'm not like them._

She swallows her disgust and continues to Brasenose. She goes to the library where the Special Education is that day and sits through her coursework.

Soon it's lunchtime, and not wanting to be around food, she goes to find Flora, her councillor.

"Have you eaten today?" Flora asks.

"Yes. I had an apple." She lies.

"Really? Oh my goodness, Charlotte, that's amazing! Well done."

"Thank you."

"Now, are you still working at the police station? You haven't gone back to that awful club?"

Charlotte has a part-time job with the police. Offering her a stable income for a few hours of occasional patrolling and paperwork on most days—nothing interesting. Community support mostly.

She did, however, go to online police school after it was suggested—getting her levels quicker than everyone else.

She’d wanted new experiences and a part-time job with the police was certainly an experience.

She used to work at a strip club and earned a lot more money, but Flora said it was hurting her mental health even more. If anything, it did the opposite.

She had validation and compliments galore. Men touching and caressing the parts of herself she so desperately despised.

She started to eat more, gaining muscle and a healthier attitude with food.

She started to feel amazing. She was even sharper at school, performed better in her competitions and lifted more weight.

It didn't last. Her pleasure was taken away by the mental health services, as usual. She was trying to discharge herself at that very moment.

She decided to finish a year or two with the police, then go back to dancing.

For now, she just had to smile through it.

"Yes. I've got a shift soon." She said.

"Excellent. How are you doing?"

Charlotte nods.

"I mean up here? In your head. Good?"

"Yes." She lies.

"Really?"

"Mhm. I feel fine. I don't feel down and I haven't felt suicidal in weeks."

Lies. All of it.

"Do you feel anything? Happy? What are you feeling right now?"

She blinked. "Nothing." She hadn't meant to say that.

"Nothing?"

"...Not really."

Flora sighed. "Good. That's stable."

"I just feel like...like...Like a human again. Like all I am is a load of tiny little cells. Which is all humans are. We are all just sacks of cells!"

"Right...Does thinking about it that way make it easier for you?"

"Well, it's true. Everything on this planet is a bunch of cells. We're all equal."

"Well, I'm glad you've got your way of thinking of it."

"Mhm."

"How are your classes? Too hard?"

"No. They're perfect. Not too hard or easy."

"Good."

"I actually need to take a survey. Could you answer for me? It's for philosophy."

"Oh God. Sure, give it here."

Flora accepts it and Charlotte talks nonstop about the subject, which bores Flora. Flora stops her, knowing Charlotte can be prone to entertain a confusing philosophical debate with herself.

"Well, that's certainly something to think about, isn't it? Very interesting. There you go, good luck on your survey."

She looks at Flora and feels embarrassment. She shouldn't have said that, she thinks. "Y-Yeah. I guess."

_Not even Flora cares about what I have to say. Talk about a pointless sack of cells._

"You know, Charlotte, I was thinking...Remember when you went to Zimbabwe recently? And you came back a lot better?"

" _Obviously_ I remember."

"Right, so maybe you should go away again. Have you got another trip coming up? You must have." Flora said.

"Are you trying to get rid of me?"

"No, no! But Zimbabwe was so good for your mental health. Maybe you should go off to work experience."

"I feel fine. I just told you."

"Yes, you feel fine now. It's your work experience years soon, right?"

"Yeah..."

"Right, and where are you thinking of taking it?"

"Well, I'd like to do a year in forensic entomology, and then I'd like to get an apprenticeship somewhere in insect ecology, maybe at a research centre. Then I think I might go on to get my PhD...I just want to work with insects...or failing that, I’d really like to carry on studying Native American and Asian mythology.”

"Right, so where in the world are the best insects?"

"Japan. They have all of the ones I want to study, but so does the UK."

"That works with Asian mythology, right?”

“Are you serious? I can’t just...I can’t just leave!”

“You hate it here, you told me."

"Yes, but I can't just leave."

"Why not? You're unhappy here. You don't want to work here for the rest of your life, do you?"

"No..."

"Just go for a few weeks, see if you like it. The summer holidays are coming up."

"Not for me. I'm going to carry on studying through summer, like always."

"You study with the Open University. Courses meant for people overseas. Do your work over there, then do your work experience there. You can do your courses here overseas. If you hate it here that much, then go. Go to Japan, Charlotte, go and be happy. Just go."

She shrugs. "I mean...I'd love to go, but I have to think about it...a lot. It’s not just a-a-a small thing, you know?”

“Of course.”

Another pause.

"Have you heard back from the Autistic people?" Charlotte asks.

"Yes. You'll get your payments again soon. Two weeks, I'd say."

"Finally.”

Charlotte suffers from Aspergers as well as everything else. She was only diagnosed at fourteen and has only just begun to receive financial support.

Charlotte finishes up with Flora and goes back to work. She finishes and goes to the police station. After doing her paperwork she thinks about leaving for Japan.

Flora was right, she'd enjoy it. The thought of giant hornets and huntsman spiders was enough to get her excited.

Maybe she should go. It's not like anyone would miss her.

She doesn’t have any friends and calls her mother once every fortnight.

No one would care if she left.

She looks at apartments in Japan—Tokyo, Osaka, Chiba—and sees a beautiful yellow apartment in Tokyo, Nerima.

Then she thinks about the low obesity rate and the beautiful scenery, also the low cost of general upkeep.

Then she remembers the significance of goldfish and cats in Japan, and the _‘survival of the thinnest’_ mentality.

It’s enticing, to say the least.

After a week of consideration, she sends it to Flora with a maybe.

_Finding you a roomie now lol xx_

She shrugs and sighs, clearly Flora did want her gone. She distracts herself by thinking about earwigs.

Charlotte loves insects, more than anything in the world.

Well, aside from her pet goldfish.

After sending Flora the message, Charlotte sighs and flops down onto her bed.

She craves the neon lights of _Lady Godiva's Gentlemen's Club_ , where men would call her pretty and ask to touch her. They weren't allowed to touch, but they did. _Lady Godiva's_ had very few gentlemen and plenty of drunk chavs.

Even the bodyguards touched you. Her only advantage was being visibly strong.

She was insulted a lot at _Lady Godiva's_ but was then cared and adored after that. After a while, she got used to being called a gorilla or a shemale and rolled with it.

But not anymore. She couldn’t be there anymore.

She swallows and gets up to go to swim. She swims and does yoga, then weighs herself several times. She cries and stares at herself naked in the mirror for hours.

She reads _Time and Free Will_ by Henri Bergson until it's early morning.

Then she sleeps restlessly.

And the cycle begins again.

A few weeks later, she makes a final decision.

She will leave Oxford and go to Tokyo. She doesn't even want to finish her year, she chooses to finish it online.

She meets her new roommate, Jack Rodgers, a law-student from Gloucester.

He's irritating and disgusting and she hates him, but he's what she's getting. He also has a puppy with him, a Jack Russell called Jacqui. He says it was a gift but he doesn't really like it.

She wants it.

She'll find a way to get rid of him.

The next few months are full of bustle and business.

Charlotte is leaving soon. Maybe she'll change, become a completely new person. That scares her.

Maybe she'll die.

Who knows?

She didn't care.

Maybe if Charlotte Fisher had known what was going to happen in Japan, she would never have left.

Or maybe, just maybe, she would've gone to Japan much sooner.

**For updates and queries, please follow my Instagram.**

**IG- '@stephpencils'.**

**Or feel free to message me directly.**

**Thank you for reading!**


	2. Chapter 2

**2**

Three days had gone by.

Three whole days in Tokyo.

I looked at my clock, working out the exact time.

_73 hours exactly._

I had ' _Big In Japan_ ' stuck in my brain, which is a banger, by the way.

All my pets had arrived safely and my goldfish, Trev, was entertaining me. I'd bought her a moss ball to play with, which she was playing with.

My room was suitably mine—my posters of cross-sections and the periodic table hung on the walls, my very own jarred and stuffed animals on my desk and bookshelves. My skeletal model—Vesalius—sat on the floor, cross-legged.

I stood up and fed Trev, before leaving my bedroom.

I had my final fitness test that day, and I was bricking it. I'd passed the test with flying colours, but I thought I was doomed to fail.

I weighed myself that morning and my weight went from a decent fifty kilos to fifty-two, (I'm five-eight).

That meant I was _fat-fatty-fat_ and that I xouldn't possibly pass and I'd be humiliated and mocked and I'd have to leave Japan because being _fat-fat-fat_ is unacceptable.

I'd refused to eat anything and I'd already done two workouts.

I wore a hoodie so no one could see my fatness, (even though I thought they would anyway), and tried to hold my neck up to make my neck look skinnier. My face was still hideously round and puffy, however.

_Bloody fat baby-face. Come on, cheekbones. I just want to see you._

_Urgh. Those collarbones are hardly visible. You're disgusting._

I hinged and unhinged my jaw, getting hopeful because unhinging it revealed my cheekbones.

I went out to go, but Jack was there.

He was a terrible roommate, as expected.

Nonetheless, I greeted him.

"Good morning. I'm going now," I said. That was it.

I was desperate to swap roommates. I liked my yellow flat, however, so, (selfishly) I was trying to get him out. Not me.

I'd already messaged Flora, but she didn't seem to care. Now that I was out of sight, I was out of mind.

I had half a mind to cancel my tests and settle for a job at a strip club in the Light District.

Only, I tried that and it hadn't worked.

I'd seen a few clubs in the first few days of being in Tokyo and got nowhere.

I was told, ' _No foreigners_ ', that my breasts were too small and ugly, that my butt was too hard and even that my hair wasn't the right colour—blondes do _not_ have more fun, I can confirm.

There was one club that didn't give a shit what I looked like, but the guy I saw said I'd get the worst pay I'd ever seen.

I had one club left to try, but no time.

_I probably won't be accepted anyway. I'm too fat. They'll laugh at me. They'll be better, skinnier...They'll laugh at me._

I pulled at my stomach and felt a wave of brutal hatred wash over me.

I was very nervous as I arrived, worried I'd gotten lost. I worried that my clothing showed my body off and that people were judging me.

My body felt grotesquely fat, and I knew everyone was laughing. I pulled at my stomach—almost flat but still not good enough—and dug my nails into my neck.

I was assigned a partner immediately; a man who sounded Slavic.

' _Pasha Sorokin_ ,' sounded Russian. Russian's actually my second language.

_No one cares._

I wandered into the sports hall nervously. There was a small cluster of people, of a few ethnicities, (well, three white people including myself), but there were more Japanese.

I didn't like this many people, I'd requested a small group due to medical issues. I tried to tell the officers that greeted me, but they just shrugged and told me where to go.

I was starting to panic, so I did stretches to try and cool down. It was then that laughter interrupted me.

A group of people in their twenties were laughing about something. _Someone._

_Me. They're laughing at me, aren't they?_

I looked over. They weren't looking at me but I knew they were laughing at me. I looked at the women in the group, their thighs and arms and felt a wave of satisfaction wash over me.

_But...But...My arms and thighs are skinnier than that. My breasts are smaller and so is my waist._

I gave a smile and saw another man they were laughing at.

He was a very tall and muscular man. He suddenly snapped at them in a language I recognised.

Russian.

"Отъеби́сь!"

The other people laughed and eventually tottered off. The man sighed and did stretches alone, like me.

_I wonder, is that Pasha Sorokin? There aren't many foreigners in here. Me, him and that other blonde woman over there._

I slowly inched over. The man noticed, and stood up, glaring at me. He was very intimidating.

"What?" He snapped.

I backed up, "I'm sorry! Eee..." I blurted out, in English. I was blushing in places I didn't know could blush. I was going to cry.

The man was oddly handsome. He had a pointy noise and eyes that I can only describe as long. He looked about thirty. He was very pale, and had longish black hair.

The man raised an eyebrow and narrowed his eyes. He then said, "Can I help you?" He spoke in strained English. Almost definitely Russian.

I shook my head. "I...I-uh."

"What?" The man folded his thick, tattooed arms.

"S-S-Sorry."

He sighed. "For what?"

"Uh...I don't uh, really know."

He laughed. "What?"

"I s-s-said, I don't...know."

"I heard you. I just do not understand. Why say sorry if you do not know why?"

"Uh...Yeah."

_God, I'm embarrassing._

"What?"

"Huh? Oh. Uh. N-Nothing."

He sighed. "You are not Japanese, no?" He continued.

_Obviously._

"Uh. No."

"You sound...English? American?"

"Oh, no. I'm, uh, Welsh, ac-actually."

"Welsh? That is the flag with the...the uh, I do not know how you say it in English. It is red with, uh, wings...Oh! Fire lizard!"

"...Oh! A Dragon? Yes, that's, uh, Welsh."

"Dragon! Mhm...Dragon." He mumbled it a few times, then looked up. "Do you speak Japanese?"

"Mostly."

"Mostly?"

"Mhm."

"I'm still learning."

"Mhm."

_Can you ever really learn a language? Because I know that I learn new English words all the time, so I don't think it's possible to fully learn a language._

"Did they tell you this was for foreigners only? Because they told me that." He continued.

I nodded. I liked this man. He clearly took care of himself and was attractive to me. Which in my mind meant he could do no evil.

He sighed, glancing at me. "Sorry. I have been rude. My name is Pasha. Pasha Sorokin." He held out a hand, I shakily took it.

"C-Charlotte..."

"Fisher? You are my partner for the exam, yes?" Sorokin continued. I nodded.

"Yes. I f-figured you were..." I trailed off.

"How?

I blushed. I didn't want to come across as presumptuous. I shrugged. "R-Russian name. Uh, your, uh—"

"Accent?"

"Yeah..."

"Yeah, I figured from yours too. It is nice to meet you."

"Yeah...а ты."

_God, you're a fucking show off._

He looked at me and laughed. "Russian too?"

"Second language."

"That's so cool. How many languages can you speak?"

"Uh...Too many."

He laughed again. "Chinese?"

"普通话, 是的."

"Seriously? Ok...French."

" _Oui. C'est ma troisième langue_."

"Wow! I have no idea what that means."

I giggled. "I'm sorry...I don't mean to-to show off."

"Oh no! This is fun. How did you—"

One of the senior officers started talking, interrupting Pasha Sorokin. It was time for the exams. We were put into two groups, each led by one of the officers.

We tsome basic fitness and team-building tests. Then there was a firearms test.

Which I hadn't expected, because 1) I was a student. 2) I had a history with extreme mental health problems.

I told the officers, who told me to sit on the side. They said I might have to take a course later on, depending on my station.

That was the final exam. I was exhausted, but I had work to do at home. So I was eager to go home.

The other foreigner at the exam—Lydia Kristofdottir—stopped me as I escaped.

"Are you coming to drink?" She asked me. I said no.

"You are not coming?" Pasha Sorokin appeared from behind me.

"No," I repeated.

"Come on. It is good for us to get to know each other."

"I do not want to."

They both stared at me.

"Sorry?" Lydia Kristofdottir asked.

"I do not want to drink with you."

Pasha looked to Lydia. I knew what they were thinking, and I hated myself for being such an arsehole.

_Fucking cunt. That's what you are. They both think you're a dick now, and you are._

_Like everyone else._

_Yeah. And don't even think about trying to get Sorokin into your bed. Like someone like him would ever sleep with a hideous beast like you. Grow up. Baby._

"Are you sure?" Pasha asked.

"It's not like we're gonna get totally shitfaced or anything, I swear." Lydia added.

"No. I have, uh, work to do."

"Work?"

"Yes. Uh, it was, uh, nice to meet you...Uh...Good luck?" I smiled awkwardly.

_You look like an awkward T-Rex. Stop smiling_.

_Sorry._

_Also, 'good luck'? Who the fuck says good luck? What's wrong with you?_

I turned on my heel and walked hastily away from them.

"Hey!" I heard Pasha call out.

I tried to pretend I didn't hear and put my headphones in.

_So rude._

"Hey, hold up." He said, walking next to me.

"I really do not want to drink." I said, staring ahead.

"Me either. I was only gonna get some water. I have that at home."

"Good for you then. Goodnight."

"Are you walking?"

"Yes."

"Where do you live?"

I looked at him. "Why?" I sounded more defensive than I would've been.

"Oh! Oh...That sounded weird...Aha. Sorry. Random ugly Russian guy asks where you live, sorry. That was... _creepy_."

_Did he just—He literally has the most arousing face ever._

"It is fine. I am used—Nevermind...Uh, and you...you are not ugly."

"Aha! No, I am—and I embrace it. Anyway, I just meant...My car's here. I can drive you. Is it far?"

"...Twenty minute walk, and I need to uh, sign up to this gym on the way...It is uh—It has a...pool, and it is with a univ-university, so I can use their library too."

"Two birds; one bullet, eh? I could tell you worked out."

_Really? Because I'm covered in so much fucking fat that I doubt it. Liar._

"Thanks. And you..." I said. "Uh, I need to get groceries too...But, uh, thanks anyway."

_You're a fucking creep._

"Are you sure I cannot drive?"

"No...I like walking, and uh, I need to explore."

"It is a big city. You do not want to get lost."

"I...I would not mind."

"What?"

"Getting lost. I would have to find my own way back, what would be a better way to explore?"

He paused. "Uh...OK."

"It is uh, a kinda fantasy of mine...To move to a new place and spend a night wandering around...I might do that tonight...But thank you. It was a kind offer."

"Are you really sure?"

"Absolutely. Goodnight." I walked away, hands in pockets.

"Hey!" He called out again. I looked back. "Where are you working?"

I paused. "Sumida."

"Me too."

"Really? Then see you round, I guess."

"I look forward to it...Be careful!"

"And you." I walked off, finally.

I signed up to the gym and library with little issue. I had an issue finding a grocery store, so I did end up getting lost.

I'd done part of the Light District already, so exploring the normal night life was incredibly fun.

There were so many little shops and cafés hidden in alleyways. So much light and electricity in the city.

It felt euphoric, as I filled myself with sake and ran from street to street, trying, but not trying, to find my little yellow apartment.

It was an escape, I guess, and I loved it.

I had only one question on my mind.

_Just what secrets does this city hold?_


	3. Chapter 3

** 3 **

Soon it was my first day at the station.

It was terrifying.

It was mostly terrifying because of ghouls; humanoid creatures that feasted upon human flesh. I'd studied creatures like the wendigo, chenoo, and all manner of cannibals before, so I was definitely intrigued, but more scared.

Whilst I adored the wendigo as a myth, it had always been _just_ a myth.

Ghouls were real and they were there. In Tokyo.

And I didn't know if I was quite ready.

But I wanted to try anyway. My tests hadn't been for nothing.

As it turned out, my first day was very boring.

The day after my first day, I got up early. The sky was almost light,I was paranoid about ghouls hanging around, but it was too light.

I came back safe and sound and changed into my new uniform.

I played with my cat for a bit, then left. I arrived at the station and was assigned a sorta-partner, who was late.

A senior officer was to walk us through our patrol route. My partner showed up just before we left.

My partner was none other than Pasha Sorokin.

I was relieved to be working with someone who was not only sexy as fuck, but also a bit familiar.

We finished the patrol without incident and went back to the station. We had to attend a meeting about something with a superintendent.

Then came what I was used to—paperwork. That's basically all students do...but I got lucky, I guess.

Because soon I wouldn't _just_ be doing paperwork.

It would start almost a week later.

I'd just walked into the station when Pasha and a senior officer approached me.

"There's a report from a woman, she hasn't heard from her daughter and son-in-law for almost a week. Here's the address, go check it out." The senior officer said.

"Yessir." We both chimed.

I didn't know if I should go, but I didn't have time to object.

The couples' apartment was about a half-hour drive from the station. We arrived, it was dead quiet. Pasha banged on the door and shouted the couples' names. No answer.

We radioed in and were given permission to enter forcefully. Pasha was going to kick the door in, but I keep a broken paperclip and some other long, thin tools on me at all times.

My parents used to keep spare locks in various draws, so as a teenager I'd sometimes play around with them. My parents also had to lock their bathroom door; when they left me home alone and I needed razors, I'd pick the door lock.

I'm by no means a master at lock picking, but I know roughly what to do.

After a few embarrassing failures, I managed to pick the lock.

Pasha shoved the door open and shouted the names of the couple. We both searched the apartment, the last room I looked in was the bedroom.

The door had something propped against it, I called out to Pasha. I forced open the door, and instantly I saw it.

Hana Nishimura—the daughter—was on the bed, drenched in blood. There were several visible puncture wounds. There was a bullet wound to the head. No weapons were visible at the scene.

Asahi Nishimura had been what had been blocking the door. His neck was twisted in an unnatural fashion, another bullet wound to the head. His limbs were all contorted and twisted, bits of bone stuck out at certain points.

I had worked with a dead human before at uni—entomology has quite a few dead bodies involved, and I’ve always liked dead things—so I wasn't bothered. I shouted for Pasha. I slid on some gloves and stepped back, there was no need to check for a pulse.

Pasha ran in and looked around. He put on some gloves and called it in. We tended to our FRO duties.

More officers arrived on the scene, then CSI, and then some investigators. I was bagging one of the Nishimura's belongings when I noticed something. I hadn't noticed it before.

The lights were extremely bright in the room and were left on. It was as if they'd been changed recently. I don't know why I picked this up, but I'm glad I did.

I then realised the power outlets should've had had blood on them, the wall surrounding did, but not the outlet.

Where the blood should've splashed on to the ridge of the outlet and dripped onto the outlet, there was nothing. It had been wiped clean.

I felt hot breath on the back of my neck as I looked at the outlet. I yelped and flinched and looked back suddenly, it was Pasha.

"Uh. Sorry...What is it?" He asked.

"The outlets...there should be blood on them."

"Huh."

"The killer must have wiped them clean, but why? Did they hurt themselves and bleed on the outlets?"

"On every single outlet in the room?"

"Exactly, only...Look at that one, right where blood should be. There is a little sticker on that outlet."

"Which one?"

"That one."

"Oh...That is odd. Since when do people put stickers on power outlets?"

"They do not."

"That is what I thought. What is the sticker of?"

"It looks like a...It's a swan."

"A swan? What the—Do they have a kid or something?"

"Definitely not, and there should be blood on it. So...This was put on after the murder, after they’d been wiped?"

Pasha scoffed. "What, like a sign from the killer?"

I shrugged.

"I think that only happens in movies." Pasha looked at me like I was stupid.

_You are stupid._

The lieutenant on the scene, Kyohei Morimine, noticed us hovering and approached.

"Did you find something?" He asked.

"Yessir. Look at this. Fisher saw it."

"What is it?"

"Look."

"I'm quite busy, just tell me."

"The lights and power outlets are brand new."

"That's it? And?" Morimime scoffed.

"There is no blood on the power outlets, any of them. Take a look." He gestured to the power outlet behind me.

"The killer just got DNA on them. Forensics'll handle it."

"DNA on every power outlet in the room?"

"Maybe."

"Sir?" I called, timidly. "I found a, uh, sticker on this one; of a swan."

"A swan?"

"Mhm."

"Maybe they had a kid over or something."

"It was stuck right on the corner, and it has no blood on it."

"Huh..." He looked. "Well...That's a first."

"What do you think?" Pasha asked.

Morimine shrugged. "This hasn't happened before...I know it's a stretch, but maybe it's a...a message or something. From the killer."

"Could be a stamp," I said. "A logo?"

"For what?" Pasha asked.

"A company? Or...This might sound stup...Actually. Never mind. Just a silly conclusion." I said, my mind suddenly wild with preposterous ideas about serial killers.

"Well..." Morimine paused. "Bag it and we'll see what we can find later."

"Maybe it has DNA behind it." I said. "I should che—"

"Yes."

"Ok."

"And about those outlets—feel free to search the bins outside though. You might find something." Morimime nodded, "Good work, Officer...?"

"Fisher, sir."

"Interesting name."

"Foreign, sir."

" _Obviously_. Good work."

"Thank you, sir."

Morimime nodded and asked us to check CCTV at the front desk.

Pasha and I checked the bins first. Yes—the perks of being a student officer. _Wonderful_.

I prefer paperwork.

It was worth it, as we did indeed find a bag of lights and power outlets. Luckily Japan takes its rubbish control seriously, and we just had to go to the electrical bin, where there isn't much waste. Batteries mainly. There were a few outlets and smashed lightbulbs, which we had to sort through.

We found a few, which turned out to be nothing.

Then we gathered the CCTV footage up until the last time the Nishimuras were seen alive.

We had the _honour_ of looking through the footage for hours and hours.

There had been nothing until about three days ago, when the Hana Nishimura had gone up to the apartment with shopping.

There were only two cameras—on the ground floor and outside. We saw loads of people go up to apartments, but we couldn't find anything about any of them that was particularly suspicious.

Outside we were presented with two possible suspects, who frequented the building.

The first, (No. 1) was a tall, dark haired and thin woman who appeared in her forties. She frequently hung around the building, but didn't live there. She also wore dark, baggy clothing.

The second, (No. 2) was a male, also tall, quite athletic. He looked about my age. He was had to miss—flashy clothes and bright purple hair. He appeared to pass the building on a route somewhere, but occasionally he'd stop and almost watch the building.

The first was difficult to track, but the second was much easier.

His name was Shuu Tsukiyama—and you'd be hard pressed to have not seen him—as the son of one of Japan's richest families. We identified him as both a model and a socialite; a big player in the social elite.

Which begged the question why he'd take an interest in such an ordinary building.

We also found out that was in his fourth year studying Social Welfare at the Department of Human Sciences at Seinan Gakuin University—which was odd, because that was my new gym and library.

Upon meeting Shuu Tsukiyama, I found myself slightly suspicious but downright confused.

He was so suspicious he appeared innocent.

"Mr Tsukiyama?" Pasha had asked.

" _Oui_? Oh! Police officers, to see me?" Tsukiyama replied. He sounded surprised, but his facial expression didn't match. I've been told I do that.

"Yessir, we need to ask you a few questions."

" _Pourquoi?"_

Pasha blinked. "Uh, we just need to ask you questions."

"Yes, about what?"

Pasha went to reply, but Tsukiyama interrupted him.

"Actually. Can't this wait? I'm quite busy."

"Well, if you would prefer to come to the station—"

" _Non, non, non_...I suppose I can speak to you. It'll have to be hasty, I've plenty to do all already. What is it? I can't imagine I've done anything wrong. This isn't about the whales again is it?"

"What? No."

"Oh. Good. Because I had nothing to do with what happened there...Hold on. You're not here about the duck either?"

"What duck?"

"Are you here about the duck or not?"

"We do not know anything about any duck, or any animals, for that manner."

_Actually, I know quite a lot about animals, especially insects and goldfish._

"Then you can wait. As I said, I'm very busy. Matsumae, could you see these two officers out?" Tsukiyama turned away.

"This is a homicide investigation. It cannot wait." Pasha snapped.

_Why did he say that? Idiot._

Shuu Tsukiyama turned around. "Oh. _Homicide_? Well, why didn't you say so? I suppose I can spare you ten minutes for something so... _dreadful."_

_Why am I getting a Patrick Bateman feeling here?_

Pasha did the questioning. I listened along and nodded silently.

We got nothing. It seemed like Tsukiyama had been at the wrong place at the wrong time.

I couldn't help but feel greatly intrigued upon meeting him, there was something so amazingly eccentric about him. He seemed creepy— _interesting_.

He also didn't properly look at me once, which made me feel quite awful about myself.

After the initial meeting, Tsukiyama didn't seem at all bothered by us. He sat relaxed, book in hand, breathing in the sweet air.

I didn't know what to think of him. He was suspicious, but not the kind of suspicious we were after.

We still had to look at the first suspect. Who was so far anonymous.

We had no idea who she was. It was believed she was a family member or friend of the Nishimura's. She looked foreign, maybe from a western country.

We were at a loss, but not for long.

A few days later, after work, I had to ask Morimine for something—I don't remember. He was at a bar after work, so I went to ask him them.

It was then that Jack—the world's worst roommate—showed up. With him was a friend of him.

He approached me and I tried not to gag. I could practically smell the grease and stale sweat from him.

He spoke to me about something I didn't listen to, before I noticed him glancing over at Morimine's bag, to the picture of anonymous suspect.

He raised an eyebrow at it. I picked it up and hid it.

"Hey. Let me see." He said.

"It's private." I said.

"She looks like one of my professors. Let me see."

"...Really?"

"Yeah. Lemme see."

I let him look. "Well?"

"Yeah. That's Ms Raabe. She's a Japanese Lit professor. Katherine—Kate—Raabe. She's Norwegian or something."

I scribbled down her name on a little notepad from my bag. "At your uni?"

"Yup..."

"I'll tell Lieutenant Morimime. Do you have a number?"

"You already have my number." Jack giggled.

I wish I didn't.

"No, hers, obviously."

"What'd she do?"

"Uh, it's nothing. Just protocol." I replied.

"What? Did she kill someone?"

"Grow up."

"Did she?"

I thought. "No. Uh. What time is she in school?"

"She teaches at some posh school half the week—"

"He means Seinan Gakuin. The Catholic one." His friend corrected.

_Hm. That's two suspects with affiliations to that school._

_Maybe the killer's a professor? A governor? A student, even?_

_What do Katherine Raabe and Shuu Tsukiyama have in common aside from the school?_

"I said. "I know the one. My gym's there."

_Just letting you know that I do indeed workout and that I'm not as lazy and fat as I look._

"She's there three or four days a week. I'm sure the receptionist could tell you. I've got our school's number somewhere."

"Oh, thanks."

Pasha came over. "Hi!"

"Oh, hi." I said.

"I am going home now, do you want me to drive you tonight?"

"Uh..."

"Or are you exploring?"

"I actually have to, uh, revise."

"So I can take you?"

"I can get the bus."

"No, come with me. I will not make you pay, promise."

"Oh...I could—"

"No. It is fine."

"Uh, thanks. Just give me a second."

"Here." Jack handed me a number.

"Thanks," I started leading Pasha away.

"Will I see you later?" Jack asked.

"Let's hope not," I mumbled.

I lead Pasha away. "I just found an ID on the other suspect. Katherine Raabe, foreign, professor at Seinan Gakuin and Tokyo University."

"That's two suspects with connections to that school."

Morimine came over and I explained again.

"Seinan Gakuin? That's the—"

"Yeah, we did that already," Pasha said.

"Was this you? Fisher, already?" Morimine asked.

"My roommate. She's his teacher."

"OK. Tomorrow morning I want you to question every teacher at that school. See where they were at the time of the murders. Find out if anyone has a link to any of the victims."

"I can go back now—"

"Just go home and sleep. I want you in early tomorrow. Is wasn't your day off tomorrow, was it?"

"Uh. Yes, sir, it was...Uh. I'm only part-time."

"Ah, yeah, I forgot. Can you work tomorrow?"

"Yessir."

"See you tomorrow."

"Goodnight sir."

Then he left and I got in Pasha's car. I rated his driving a B.

"A B? I'll take it."

"Really?"

I wouldn't take a B. _Ever_.

"What? What's wrong with a B?"

"It's not an A, is it? Not the best. You could be better."

"Woah. You are a little harsh, I think."

"I'm not harsh."

"A perfectionist then?"

"No." I snapped, looking away.

Pasha drove me to the shop five minutes away from my apartment. I grabbed some shopping and walked to my flat.

I was a couple of steps from the entrance when I heard an odd sound.

It was the sound of fighting—someone being beat and pushed and shoved.

There was slightly faint shouting and of something being slammed against a wall. The was also the sound of something squishing.

I shuddered, frozen in place. I figured it was one of those ghoul attacks. I knew the best and most sensible decision would be to keep walking—running.

However, I was sure that one of the voices belonged to Shuu Tsukiyama—who I'd met earlier that day.

The more I listened, the more I recognised him.

I was certain it was him.

There was a sudden sharp yelp, then a horrible noise. I can't describe it.

I winced and chewed my lip. I wanted to move, but I couldn't.

I heard footsteps walking my way, with very faint grunting. I wondered if someone was hurt, and I wanted to investigate.

_Don't be stupid. Don't get yourself killed._

_It’s not like anyone would care if I was killed, is it?_

I couldn't move anyway, and I was too nervous to call out. I decided that leaving was the best decision.

I finally managed to move and ran into the apartment block.

In the safety of a well-lit building, I cast a glance behind me.

I saw the silhouette of a man, maybe a bit taller than me, an athletic frame and two red pupils that faded to a new colour.

It was fascinating. I wanted to ask how he'd done that—what was the science behind it?

Was it like a cuttlefish? By using chromatophores?

Perhaps it was like a shark—by rolling the eyes back or using a protective membrane?

Oh, how I wanted to dissect this new creature! I wanted to cut up and investigate and observe this new thing.

But I certainly wasn't in any position to do so.

As I was caught up in my thinking, my eyes had met with his. I gulped and bounded up the stairs.

It was definitely him.

_Shuu Tsukiyama's a ghoul. He's a ghoul._

_And I saw him!_

And by then I already knew...

I was fucked.


	4. 4

**4**

I scrambled up to my apartment, worrying about waking my neighbours.

I got into my apartment and locked the door. I locked every window and the balcony door.

I sat on the sofa, shaking, Aqua at my side. I wanted to throw up.

_He's a ghoul. Is that important?_

_I don't think so. These murders weren't for food. Ghouls hunt for food, right._

_Fuck. Is there a body next to my apartment right now?_

I looked at the empty preservation jars opposite. I had a thought that I quickly brushed away.

_I can't believe I just thought of that_.

_Having a human heart in a jar would be so cool though._

_The brain would be better._

_Totally!_

_Wait, where was I? Oh, right._

_I've just seen a ghoul who I know and he could be coming to kill me._

_What do I do now? Will he come after me? Am I going to die now? Right fucking now?_

_What now? What now?_

I started having a panic attack, thinking about Shuu Tsukiyama. I felt sick, and gagged and wretched dramatically.

I stomped into the bathroom, heaving and panting. I ran to the sink, choking, and pulled out my razors from behind it. I rolled up my sleeves, my breath calming as I made deep cuts in my skin.

I don’t know how long I did it, only that it was messy and that I did it on my thighs and breasts too.

It helped calm me down, or at least get me to a point where I was able to breathe.

I felt a bit dizzy afterwards, and curled up in my bed. I watched the window nervously, clutching my stuffed camel—Humphrey—to my chest.

I waited hours to see if he’d come. I read, trying to take my mind off of it. I tried writing some of my ‘ _novel_ ’ about Lady Jane Grey, but the words didn’t come.

I ended up falling into philosophical texts that were about as deep as an oil puddle from a eco-car.

I didn’t sleep that night, and my morning weightlifting didn’t help.

Before work I went to the gym again—a spin session and some callisthenics with weights.

He had a gorgeous body, and I felt awfully disgusting next to him. That was exactly why I always wore baggy sweatshirts when working out in public. Not that that seemed to stop people sniggering and whispering about my fatness when I walked by.

He looked over at me, no doubt disgusted at my covered figure. "You look hot." He announced.

"Uh. What?"

"You are wearing a baggy sweater. Take it off, you will overheat and faint or something."

_And let everyone laugh even more at how hideous I am? I think not!_

"I...I am fine." I wasn't. I was overheating and dehydrated.

"Drink some water then."

_I can't. It'll make my tummy look bigger._

"I'm fine."

"Where is your water bottle?"

"I don't have one."

"What? Боже мой! Take it off now and have some of my water."

"No, no, I'm fine."

"You could die. Take it off. Come on."

I refused until I started to cry, but Pasha wouldn't give up and neither would I. He almost literally forced water down my throat.

"I don't want to take it off," I said, for the sixteenth time.

"You could die. What is wrong with taking it off for ten minutes?"

"I can't."

"Why? Are you glued into it?"

"No."

"Then why? Ten minutes, that is all. Why do you have to keep it on?"

"Because I'm fat," I snapped, blushing with embarrassment.

I was crying harder now, wincing everytime I had to brush tears from my hideous cheeks.

_Mortifying. Actually mortifying._

_I hate him. I actually hate him._

"What? Are you serious?"

I said nothing, I couldn’t even look at him.

"Look...You are not fa—"

"I am. Don’t act like you can’t see it."

"But you are like a...a twig."

I didn't want to listen to something I'd heard a million times before, so I turned away and told him to fuck off. When I finished my set, I moved and finished my workout somewhere else.

Afterwards, I changed to my uniform and went to my shift.

I did as Morimine asked and found nothing. Katherine Raabe wasn't at the school that day and none of the professors knew anything of her.

They said she was German, (Not Norwegian), and that she kept to herself, that she was standoffish. They did mention another teacher I didn't get to talk to—Oliver Gunnarson—a Swedish law professor.

He and Raabe were friends. They got along well but were both standoffish to the other teachers.

A little club.

He wasn't in either and oddly, he had no address on file and very few contact details.

Raabe also had few contact details, but had an address at least.

I called them both but it went to voicemail.

_That's incredibly suspicious._

Whilst at the university I kept an eye out for Shuu Tsukiyama. I was worried about him springing up on me.

He didn't show up.

I reported back to Morimine and then he asked me if I could do an hour of patrol with Pasha. I said yes and off we went.

I hated patrol, but on that day nothing interesting happened. I went home straight after, without another word to Pasha.

I needed alcohol, and I didn't want to chug it in public. I hadn't eaten all day, so it was OK to drink without worrying about weight gain.

So I made myself a few drinks and did some schoolwork. After that, I danced with my pole and did yoga, then I drank some more...too much, so at least it was easier to sleep.

The next few days weren't anything special. I was just learning how my routine would play out.

It's important to have a routine. A routine is structure. That way you know nothing unexpected will happen.

A few days later, I was at work, making a coffee for a Sergeant when Pasha poked his head around the door.

"Hi." He said.

I nodded.

"You making two of those?"

I was confused by what he was insinuating, so I ignored him. He looked at some cupcakes I'd baked.

"Oh, they look nice! What are they?"

"Wasabi." I answered. "With white chocolate."

He probably thinks that I'll eat them all from the look of me.

"Oh, wasabi, in a cake?"

"It works, apparently...I do not eat cake."

"Do you eat anything?" He said it like a joke.

I refused to answer that.

"Sorry, that was...Urgh, sorry. Uhm. About the other—"

"It's fine."

"No, I should...I just—Look. I know we do not know each other that well, but if you want to talk—"

"About what?"

"Just...Stuff."

"No thank you."

I turned to leave, but Pasha stopped me.

"Did you question those teachers?" He asked.

"Ages ago."

"Oh, of course, right. I am working that case, actually—"

"Right, and?"

"I just...I thought you might be interested."

"Thanks?"

He paused awkwardly. "We have not found a lot."

"Best get back to work then. Excuse me, this coffee's getting cold." I said, shuffling away.

I spent the rest of the day thinking about Shuu Tsukiyama.

Thank God my work was mostly making coffees and carrying out simple paperwork.

I was heading home when Pasha approached me again and invited me to the bar. I refused.

I didn't want to be a dick, but I also wanted to be alone.

The only interest I had in Pasha Sorokin was to fuck him. He was gorgeous, after all.

On my way home I received a phone call from Martin. It ended in a fight.

As I walked home, I felt jittery; paranoid.

I felt like I was being watched, and I had a feeling it was Shuu Tsukiyama.

I looked around, but the only person of interest was a boyish looking woman. I like women that look like men, but I also like women that look like women.

I just like women...and men.

Especially Japanese women, I mean, fucking hell—

Sorry.

Anyway.

The woman smiled at me, and I was sure it was her that was watching me.

Looking back, I know who that woman was and I can confirm, it was _her_.

I scuttled off, still feeling like I was being watched.

When I got home, I baked some raspberry curd muffins and tidied the apartment. Then I went to my room where I rearranged my _Sylvanian Families_.

Aqua stared at me with disgust, probably thinking the same thing as everyone else ' _You're a twenty-two old woman, too old to play with toys_ '.

I've always liked toys. I find playing with them or having them near me relaxing.

It's not sexual, if that's what you're thinking. I mean, I have Daddy Issues, but my toys aren't related to that.

I just like playing with toys, I guess.

Anyway...

I saw that there was a large huntsman spider was in the Sylvanian yoga studio. I was delighted at having a guest, but left her in peace, as she seemed a bit jittery.

After practicing a dance routine, I showered, then I almost smashed a mirror when I got frustrated with my reflection.

My waist looked too bloated, my face and thighs too fat. My arms were too big and my neck wasn't long enough.

Without thinking, I took a razor from the cupboard and let my emotions take hold.

I regretted that later, when they scarred my stomach.

I didn't sleep again that night.

I stayed at home the next day, before heading out to swim and get some shopping.

My first stop was the toyshop; then the bookshop. I started with the new releases, looking for something interesting.

It was there that I found a familiar figure, looking out the window at the people outside.

I froze, starting to shake. I felt dizzy and queasy.

It was Shuu Tsukiyama.

I stared at him, and he looked back at me, a thin-lipped smile appearing on his face.

_Fuck._

" _Bonjour, Mademoiselle Fisher_!" He purred.

"Good afternoon, Mr Tsukiyama," I replied. I felt sick.

"Afternoon, already? It is! I must've lost track of time."

_OhmyGod. Ohmyfuck._

_Please don't hurt me. Please. I won't tell anyone. I don't care if you're a ghoul, just please don't hurt me. Please. Please._

"Hmhm." I was certain I’d vomit everywhere.

"Are you not working today?"

"Uh. No."

_Fuck. Now he knows when I'm alone._

"Well, I must say, I'm rather surprised to see _you_ here. I didn't know you were a bibliophile, you don't look like the... _type_."

I'm not sure what he meant by that, but I was wearing pink and I'm blonde, so maybe he was calling me a dumb blonde?

No, that wouldn't be it because he was wearing pink too...I really didn’t understand.

_OhmyGod. What do I do?_

I might've been crying a bit.

"I am, actually, uh, you?"

"I am, yes. I was just-"

"People watching?" I interrupted.

_OhmyGod. That was so rude. We're so fucked._

"I suppose you could call it that, yes."

"Hm." I tried to be polite, and trotted over to the magazines. I just wanted to get away.

Tsukiyama was following me now.

_OhmyGod. OhmyfuckingJesusHChrist._

I was sweating even though I was freezing.

I looked at the natural history books, looking for anything on insects, but I was too nervous to think clearly.

Tsukiyama was already at the fiction books when I got there.

_God. He's following me without even following me. God._

_You deserve it. You're a dumb bitch._

_I know. Please don't hurt me._

He simply smiled at me and I tried to find a book. I was unsuccessful because he was distracting me.

I decided to get some coffee afterwards, Tsukiyama had started talking to me again. I wasn't really listening, I was too busy worrying about him snapping my neck or plucking out my tongue.

"Uh. Flat white, p-please." I said quietly to the barista.

"And one Americano, _merci beaucoup_ ," Tsukiyama added.

I blinked.

_Fuck. I guess he's sitting with me then. OhGod._

_Is he scoping me out? I'm so confused. I don't want to die like this._

_Couldn't he just get it over with? Let's not play games. Just do it._

I was shocked that he'd just invited himself like that, but I didn't really care. I just wanted to go home, away from him, go to sleep and never wake up. I didn't want to give him the satisfaction of taking my life.

I started getting my purse from my bag, but Tsukiyama stopped me.

"Oh. There's no need. _C'est moi qui offre_."

_Absolutely not._

"Oh, _non, merci_."

_You're such a show off._

"Please. _S’il vous plaît_.”

I gave my money to the barista regardless, (like I was letting a stranger who wanted to kill me pay for my drink), and sat down.

Tsukiyama was talking about books and languages, which I'm very knowledgeable in, so I was interested, but I was too tired and flustered to take anything in.

He seemed quite fascinated by the Western world, even after I told him what it was really like.

"You're quite shy, aren't you?" He asked.

_You're going to kill me, aren't you?_

"Mhm." I nodded.

"You've got lovely hair." He said suddenly.

_OhmyGod._

"Sorry?"

"Your hair. It's gorgeous."

_It's falling out._

"Oh. Uhm. Thank you."

"Is it...real?"

Oh, God.

"Uh. Yes."

"It's so thick and golden—like pure honey."

"OK. Thank you."

_Please stop._

"I've never seen a colour like it."

_God. Please stop praising my hair. It's brittle and matted. Just say you like it and shut up._

_He probably wants to scalp you._

"Mhm."

God that man could talk about hair.

...And eyes.

"You've got...interesting eyes too—they're almost haunting."

_OhmyGod. STOP. I don't like all this praise. I'm an ugly cunt. Please stop._

_Wait. He said my eyes are 'haunting', that's not a compliment, right? Finally, some honesty._

_Wait...Maybe he said that because he wants to eat my eyes! No! No! No! I won't let him! I'll die before he gets them._

_Like anyone would try to eat your fat arse._

"I know," I said.

"I don't mean to offend you, they're just very large and you've got very long eyelashes."

"I have been, uh, told. They are...creepy."

"Yes, quite."

I nodded, wanting to claw out my eyes for being undesirable. I wanted to shrink them a little, make them more feminine, or make my other features bigger.

After coffee, I needed to go to the supermarket. I'd expected Tsukiyama to leave then, but he didn't. He followed me.

_Oh. My. God._

_I'm going to die. Not now. I need to find someone to feed my animals!_

I started getting fruits and vegetables, all the while listening to Tsukiyama talk about himself, which was fine because he was interesting.

Then he started asking me questions. Now, I'm crap at small talk, but I know not to start with:

"Are you single?"

"Yes," I replied.

_Why? Are you interested?_

_In killing you? YES._

_I'd shag him, even if he was going to kill me. I think I'd be more open to him killing me if we were doing it. Hm. Actually, that sounds pretty hot._

_Slut._

"By choice, or..."

"I'm just single."

My last ' _boyfriend_ ' had broke up with me because of my goldfish...and the sex work.

Relationships only slow me down—Sometimes I need money and I know how to make it fast.

Most boyfriends and girlfriends don't like that.

Fair enough. But bye-bye.

"I am not looking for... anything. If someone comes along, I might, uh, go for it."

_Now he knows you're alone most of the time. Great. Well done, fuckwit._

I didn't mention that I'd been a stripper and a prostitute since I was seventeen because that wasn't relevant.

_I'm sure my being a sex worker makes my life less significant to him._

_Your life is insignificant. Everything and everyone is insignificant._

"What about you?" I asked. "Are you single?"

"Yes, I am," Tsukiyama replied.

I nodded. "Okay then."

That was it. He left not long after. I was relieved but also more terrified.

_Is he going to sneak into my bedroom and smother me? What's he going to do? What now?_

As it would turn out, Shuu Tsukiyama would be the least of my worries. He might've wanted to kill me, but someone else _wanted_ me.

Someone else was interested in me.

_Very_ interested in me.


	5. 5

**5**

My encounters with Shuu Tsukiyama would only increase after that afternoon.

That night, I decided to actually do some research on the man who'd probably kill me.

I knew that he was the son of the Tsukiyama Keiretsu; that he was a popular model and esteemed socialite already. I knew he studied human sciences, and that his criminal record was as clean as could be.

I could only tell so much about personality. He seemed intelligent, quite inquisitive (which could've been suspicion), well-read and gentlemanly. But he was also quite arrogant and could come across as rude.

My Google search provided immediate results, though of little substance.

It was quite a lot on fashion and modelling, also music and sports—he competed in martial arts, rowing and even equestrian sports. He also played the piano.

All that only made me a angry.

I don't like it when people are better than me.

Shuu Tsukiyama had all these talents and achievements, and in my head I compared his achievements to my own—cackling when I did better, growling when I was less.

It was impossible not to seethe and swell with envy. Impossible for me, at least.

I have to stop myself now before I go into an intense ramble about envy and its six relatives.

I wondered if Shuu Tsukiyama felt the same envy towards people better than him.

_He must do. Everyone does that._

I continued my search, looking for controversies or interviews.

There was nothing.

The man was almost made up of money, fashion, literacy and good looks.

No substance. No...personality.

That’s what the media said.

I knew that wasn’t true, and to be honest, it made me a bit sad for him.

Every once of that unique character I'd encountered was vacant from the interviews and articles.

Shuu Tsukiyama was very interesting. He had such character and freedom—I'd expected the media to salivate, drool over, poke, prod, offend and tear into his uniqueness. They said he was ‘ _unique’_ and ‘ _outrageous_ ’, but offered no evidence for it outside of his fashion.

I was offended—How dare they not give him the time of day?

In a rage, I stalked his social media—he was too cool for Facebook, might I note.

I did Twitter first. I found something that immediately made me like him more.

He posted occasionally for remarks and thoughts, but mostly for discussion of literacy and botany, of sport and music.

It was so pure...innocentand enduring.

He even had an online book club and a florography blog.

To my surprise, he was someone I actually wanted to follow.

I was too scared that that'd be inappropriate, and I knew he'd laugh at me. He'd laugh because I was scared of him, so I was stalking him.

His Instagram was even more alluring. It was filled with oversaturated photographs of sunny beaches, forests, and mountains so snowy they looked like they’d been dusted with icing sugar. He sang covers, played his piano, painted, and posted videos of his beloved horses.

There were photos of food he made—which surprised me—also of books he read and flowers; both pressed and in bloom.

There were many photos from his modelling work and of parties he hosted/attended.

There were also photos of himself.

_Lots_ of them.

Oh, he was a vain, vain man.

A sexy, vain, vain man however.

My God.

He was beautiful. I was convinced he was an incarnation of Apollo himself.

I salivated and fingered myself at the sight of his godlike beauty.

I spent the entire night stalking his Instagram, admiring him and pleasuring myself.

I had to follow him. I had to.

He was so beautiful, so _alluring_.

I _had_ to.

_He probably won't notice...I'm sure he gets loads of new followers a day._

I found it more difficult to sleep that night. I was so horny.

I imagined loads of kinky scenarios between me and Shuu Tsukiyama.

It was impossible to sleep with all that excitement!

And it wouldn't get easier.

The next day, I had to go on patrol with Pasha. It was still a bit awkward between us.

It got worse when Pasha got something to eat. He seemed fixated on what I ate.

I told him quite snappily that I wasn't hungry.

I didn't want to be a bitch, but I couldn't stand talking about eating food, or being around food, even if it was almost all I thought about.

I wanted to apologise for being so bitchy, but that seemed like it'd incriminate me more.

He gave up eventually, much to my relief.

It was then we ran into the man I'd been thinking about for the past few days.

Shuu Tsukiyama.

My breath caught as I saw his tall and radiant figure approach us.

" _Bonjour_! Well, I didn't expect to see you here." He beamed in his loud and confident tone.

_OhmyGod. I spent all night waiting for him to come and get me._

_Don’t you mean you fantasised about him assaulting you?_

_Is he following me? OhmyGod. OhmyGod...That kinda turns me on._

_You're such a slut, and you wish._

_I know._

"Mr Tsukiyama, good morning," Pasha grunted. He didn't look pleased.

"Afternoon," I mumbled, not looking at Tsukiyama. I feared I'd orgasm in public, in front of him.

"Afternoon? Oh...Yes, it's...why, it's almost one o'clock!" Tsukiyama looked at his Rolex. "Oh! Did you find your killer? I haven't heard anything (else) so I assume you don't want to talk to me anymore."

"Well, we—"

"Though I haven't seen any articles in about a caught killer...In fact, I haven't seen any articles at all about _anything_...and you were both so private when you questioned me. One does start to get _curieux_."

"We cannot reveal information this early on in the investigation."

"Early? So you haven't caught your killer? You're not even close?"

_Whoops._

"We are still working hard at it, sir," Pasha said.

"Really? It doesn't look like it."

"We are. It can be a very long process, sir, and certainly not a stress-free one."

Tsukiyama looked at me.

_Fuck._

"And _you_. You're just a student, should you really be working such a high-profile case? Surely all you do is minor paperwork?"

_Did I tell him I was a student? I don't think I did._

_He's probably been researching you. Trying to see who you are._

_He's been stalking me. Of course. I stalked him, it's only fair._

_Only...I've got no reason to want to kill him, unless death by shagging's an option._

_This isn't a time for jokes, you fucking idiot._

_Right...Fuck! Oh God. I'm dead. I'm dead, aren't I? I'm dead meat._

_Literally. Dead 'meat'._

"How did you know she is a student, Mr Tsukiyama?" Pasha asked.

"Because she told me."

"Did you?"

"Uh, yeah." I blushed.

"When?"

"I happened to come across Miss Fisher in a bookshop and we had coffee."

Pasha looked at me. "Why on earth—"

"In all fairness, Officer, it's not really your business."

"Sorry?"

"It's not your business."

"Well, I think it is."

"How so? Officer Fisher, is it his business?"

"Uhh..."

_Say nothing._

"It is inappropriate," Pasha said.

"It's hardly inappropriate. We had coffee, we didn't do anything inappropriate. Did we?"

_I thought about it._

"Uh, no."

"Exactly. It was just coffee. Or is that inappropriate?"

"...Not really."

"Exactly. _Honnêtement_ , Russians can be so overdramatic."

_OhmyGod_.

_They didn't say he was racist in the articles._

_Wow...Jesus._

"What did you just say?" Pasha snapped suddenly.

_OhmyGod._

"Officer Sorokin, don't," I said. I blinked and felt dizzy.

He looked at me. "He just—"

"You can't speak to members of the public like that," I said, in Russian. "And it shouldn't be me you are apologising to."

He sighed. "Sorry." He addressed Tsukiyama.

"You've certainly got a temper. _Tsk. Tsk._ "

Pasha shot him a look that gave me shivers. Tsukiyama didn't seem at all threatened, of course. He was so cool. "You don't scare me, Officer."

Tsukiyama paused, looking at me. I felt myself go wet.

" _Maintenant de toute façon_ , what language were you just talking in? It sounded...I'm not quite sure. Your native language?" Tsukiyama said.

I looked up at him.

"You clearly aren't from Japan. Are you both from the same place?"

_He knows where I'm from. He's got to_.

"No," Pasha growled.

"Ah! Then where are you from?"

"None of your fucking business."

"Pasha." I snapped.

_What the fuck is wrong with him? I didn't realise he was so angry._

Pasha sighed. "Officer Fisher is from...somewhere in Britain. I am from Eastern Europe, if you must know."

"Where in Eastern Europe?"

"East," Pasha smiled bitterly.

_Why is he so angry?_

"Ah...Why might you be in Japan?" He looked at me.

"It is...uh...Complicated." I stuttered quietly.

_He might not know that._

"Yeah; _complicated_."

" _Oh_ ~"

"You better not be thinking what I think you are," Pasha growled again. He reminded me of a wolf, he even looked like a wolf.

_OhmyGod. Calm down. What was he thinking? I don't get it._

"I wasn't thinking anything. You really have got a temper."

_I agree with you, but you're not helping._

"Pasha..." I mumbled, resting my hand on his arm. "He has a valid point. You're very angry..."

"Don't worry, I will not—"

_Lying. Lying. Come on you pathetic slut, do something!_

"And, he was not suggesting anything...He didn't say anything...There's no need to get so angry."

"Should you really be a police officer? You ought to get your anger sorted out before you become a police officer." Tsukiyama said.

_That's not helping._

_He's got a point though._

"What did you just say?" Pasha said.

"I was simply saying. Those with..." He looked at me. " _Fragile_ mental states shouldn't really be the ones protecting the public."

_OhmyGod. He's going to make it look like suicide._

Pasha was about to snap.

_He's not talking about you. He means me. It's not you, it's me._

I bit hard on my lip and held onto his arm.

"Pasha, do you think you get me a coffee?" I asked, stuttering, shaking, and digging my nails into my palms.

_Calories. Calories. FUCKING CALORIES._

Pasha looked at me with an almost disgusted look in his eyes, then he snorted and stormed off. He swore in Russian and kicked a plant.

_Uncalled for. It was your fault, now a plant is suffering for it. You're so stupid, Charlotte. Don't you see that all you do is cause trouble?_

I turned to Tsukiyama, narrowing my eyes slightly.

_People like you should just disappear. If you left, no one would care._

I got that taste in my mouth. That horrible taste.

_Why don't you just die? Get your laptop charger and tie it around your neck._

The taste of Paracetamol and blood.

_You should be dead. Do you hear?_

_I know._

_He's going to kill you._

_I know._

_You're a dead woman walking._

_I know. I understand; I'm going to die._

"Hm? Officer, are you listening?" Shuu Tsukiyama broke me from that stream of thought.

"Oh...Yes." I blushed.

"Are you alright? You look pale, and my, how you're shaking!" He asked, I swear he was laughing.

_No. I'm not alright. I'm cold and I'm scared of you and I'm going to die._

"I am fine."

"You weren't listening, were you?" He sighed.

_No._

"Uh...Well, I—No. Sorry. I was not."

He seemed irritated.

_No wonder. He hates you, you know._

_Duh, he's going to kill me._

_Everyone hates you. No, actually that's not right. Everyone doesn't hate you, they just don't care about you. No one cares. No one hates or loves you, they just don't care._

"I said," Shuu Tsukiyama cleared his throat, "That I apologise if I insulted that other Officer. He seemed quite hurt, though he does seem to have quite the temper, so I'm not quite sure if I'm the one that should be apologising."

"Uh-huh...mphfd." I made a stupid noise.

I'm feeling really confused right now. I'm scared of you, but you turn me on.

"Are you still not listening to me? Are you sure you're feeling alright?"

"I just get, uh, dizzy sometimes."

"Are you lying? You're very pale."

"It is, uh...Natural." I spluttered.

"Are you sure you don't have anaemia or some kind of deficiency?" Tsukiyama narrowed his eyes.

_Probably._

_That's a bit personal anyway._

_Although, to be fair, he's probably trying to see how he can kill me without it being suspicious._

"No, I'm...fine."

"OK then...Can I ask," Shuu Tsukiyama started. "That other officer—the Russian one—he's got quite the temper, non?"

"Uh...Maybe."

"And you... _You_."

_Yes, ME._

"You seem far...gentler."

_I don't like the way he said that._

"So one does wonder why you have been partnered with someone like that."

"I do not follow." I choked out.

_I wish he'd choke me out._

_Whore._

"I'm not surprised."

"What?"

"I didn't say anything...It's just, he's a much larger and louder man. Doesn't it frighten you? Or anyone else, for that matter?"

_You frighten me...And arouse me._

"No, why w-would it?"

"Oh, it's just me being curious. I can't help but wonder."

"Right..." I nodded.

"You seem a little young for a student, how old are you?"

_You know how old I am._

"I, uh, turned twenty-two two months ago."

"Oh! We're the same age. Sorry, my mistake, you seem much younger. Honestly, you look about twelve."

_Uh. No._

"Thanks?"

"Sorry. It's those big eyes and that..." He scoffed. "And how skinny you are...Oh! And, how could I forget—all those children's toys in your home?"

_..._

_Oh_.

I just laughed awkwardly. I don't know why I did it.

"And you follow all those little toy companies on Instagram, don't you?" He smiled.

_Fucking idiot._

_I knew I'd get caught. God, I'm so stupid._

_Speaking of stupid; I have to confront him about it. I need to let him know I mean no harm..._

_He'll still kill you._

"Uh, so, I know—" I started, trailing off.

_I should've thought it through._

"Know what?" Shuu Tsukiyama tilted his head to one side.

"Uh. The other...The other night, I, uh, saw..."

"What?"

He knew I knew. I knew he knew that I knew.

That's a lot of knews, isn't it?

"You...Uh, outside—"

"You saw me outside? Oh! How _preposterous_! How _dare_ I?!"

I blushed.

_I'm such a fucking idiot._

"You know...You know what I saw." I spluttered, trying not to cry in fear and embarrassment.

"Do I?" He said, stepping really close to me. I didn't like that. I stepped back, but he took my hand and glared into my eyes.

_Can't do eye contact. You know that. Can't. No. No. NO. STOP! Stop._

"Wh—I, uhm—Could you ple-please step back."

He only got closer.

"Stop it!" I pushed him.

"What on earth was that? How dare you? Who do you—"

"I do not like it."

He laughed. " _Peu importe_."

I shuddered. "Please...Please stop touching me."

"Why? Does it make you uncomfortable?"

_It feels like it's burning me._

I nodded. He laughed and touched me more.

"Stop it!" I cried.

I really don't like being touched, (except sexually). It's horrible. It's really hot, like their touch is burning me, and I always feel their touch on me for ages afterwards.

My terror only amused him. I wanted to cry, scream, hit him and run away all at once. I cowered and whimpered, not wanting to cause a scene.

He looked at me with a smile and bent to whisper to me. "Your goldfish has such a lovely tail. I'd very much like it for myself."

That crossed a line.

_How dare he? How dare he threaten my baby like that? She...Why? Why would you even dare to mention it? How could he?_

I believe it takes a very special kind of evil to murder a goldfish, and I don't even believe ' _evil_ ' exists.

More about that later.

I can't describe how it felt. Being threatened myself was bad, but to go for my goldfish was a whole new level.

I wanted to strangle him for saying such a thing.

He'd found my weakest point and he took advantage of it. He’d seen my pictures of her and the tattoo on my forearm. It was a natural progression.

"Please...No." I mumbled, not making the situation any easier.

_Shut up before you fuck yourself over._

"She has never done anything to you. She is a good, _good_ little fish. I will _not_ let you hurt her!"

"I don't care about your fish. _Honnêtment_ , I find it funny. Your only friend is a goldfish— _C'est hilarant_!"

"I...It is not funny."

_Don't cry. Don't cry. Don't you dare cry you wimp—Oh, for—_

_I'm trying to stop. It's just coming out._

Tsukiyama only laughed at me, but stopped when Pasha stormed over.

"Excuse me, what the fuck?" He snapped.

_Language._

"Should you really use that language?" Tsukiyama sneered.

"Why is she crying? What did you do?"

"Me? I did nothing." Tsukiyama stepped back and smiled as if nothing had happened.

"Did he hurt you?" Pasha asked me.

I wiped my face and shook my head, even though I was hurt and I could still feel his touch on me.

" _Sérieusment_? I'd never touch her!" Tsukiyama seemed disgusted by the idea.

_I want to go home now._

"Then why is she upset? If you did not do anything?"

"Well, I don't know, do I?"

"Do you? Because you had coffee, right?"

"That doesn't—"

"It is fine. I'm fine." I sniffed. "We should get on with our route. Good afternoon, Mr. Tsukiyama." I tugged Pasha's arm.

Tsukiyama bid good afternoon, smiling smugly. Pasha glared him down a bit, before slinking off with me.

Pasha looked at me. "What—"

"It's nothing. Thanks for, uhm, saving me."

"What did he say to you?"

I pursed my lips. I really wanted to cut after all that.

"Nothing."

"You were crying."

_I really, really need to cut. Fuck. I feel like that's all I need to do right now._

I scratched my arms to try to feed my urge.

"It's nothing," I said.

Pasha noticed. "What is that? Did he hurt you?"

"What?"

"On your arm."

"It's fine."

"What did he do?"

"Nothing. It's just a cat scratch."

"Let me see." Pasha reached out a hand. I instinctively pulled away.

"No!" I shouted.

He paused. "Sorry..."

_God, I am such a cunt._

_He's only tried to help me, and tis is how I treat him. I'm ridiculous._

I couldn't bring myself to apologise.

There was a long pause.

"Did you do it?" Pasha asked eventually, in a low voice.

"Do what?" I asked.

"On your arms..."

"What?"

"Do you...You know...Hurt yourself?"

I looked away in disgust. "That's stupid." I said.

_Yes. Cutting is stupid. Only stupid people do it, which is why you do it._

"It is not stupid...Look, I know we do not really know each other, but—"

"I said; it's fine. Can you just leave me alone? Please?"

Pasha went to say something, but stopped. He sighed and looked away. "Sorry."

_It's not him that should be apologising. You're such a bitchy whore. This is why everyone hates you._

Pasha paused again. "I know it is none of my business—"

"Yes, it isn't." I snapped.

_I'm such a twat._

"But, I just want to say that I worry about you."

I scoffed, "Why? I've only known you a few days."

"Because you've got cuts on your arms, you are moody, dizzy, you have no friends and you don't eat."

"I _do_ eat."

_Obviously. Look at the size of me._

"And I don't need friends. They take up too much time and energy."

"Everyone needs friends."

"I'm fine on my own, and like you said; it's none of your business."

"Whose is it?"

"Mine."

"I just...Yeah...It is not my business. Sorry for being nosey."

I looked away, feeling terrible for how I treated him. I wanted to apologise for being such a bitchy nuisance, but I couldn't bring myself to.

I didn't speak much to him the rest of the day, which was boring.

I spent the rest of the day studying and working out, as usual, but also thinking about my impending doom.

I'd always had a choice before, with my life.

But now, Shuu Tsukiyama had taken my choice away.

The choice to get better. To have a full, happy and healthy life.

Gone. I'd wasted it all.

I had only two choices now.

I could either die by my own hand or I could die by the hand of another.

I didn't cry. I went to the gym, thinking, sweating, hurting, crying, and then I went home.

Jack was back and I didn't care to speak to him, so I went out. It was the end of the day, and I'd only had two cocktails all day.

I proceeded to get completely drunk and took home a client—a woman—who paid me nicely.

Later that night, in my drunken state, I crawled into my bathroom and retrieved my blades for the fifth time that day.

I won't go into detail.

All I'll say is that I went to sleep in an empty bathtub.

And I had no intention of waking up.


	6. 6

**6**

Waking up was a disappointment.

I felt like even more of a failure.

As suicide attempts go, I’ve never been very successful. Obviously.

I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve tried.

I was thirteen when I tried the first time.

I took an overdose of paracetamol at school, got sent home after vomiting in chemistry.

I’d been depressed for awhile. We’d moved away. I didn’t make new friends, my old friends forgot I existed.

My parents decided to own a pub. They worked all the time. I was a nuisance.

They all _had_ friends. They _had_ confidence. They _weren’t_ nuisances.

It was easier to disappear. No one would miss me.

I stopped going to school after the attempt.

In a way, it was the best thing that ever happened to me. I self-educated, I developed lots of passions, I learnt whatever I want and quicker than anyone else my age.

I became the tortoise, watching the hares leap and prance—almost mocking me—whilst I plodded along, doing my own thing.

That didn’t mean my depression just disappeared though. I was still fat, ugly, useless.

Anorexia, pica, alcoholism, crippling self-loathing, anxiety and my Aspergers would all assist in the many attempts that’d followed.

I tried to recover. I did well, actually.

But then there was that night in August of 2005. I was fifteen.

The night that I couldn’t quite remember.

It was easier to forget that night in August.

On the morning of that umpteenth attempt, I woke in my bloodstained bathtub and immediately saw where I’d gone wrong.

I hadn’t cut deep enough, and they’d been too shaky, nowhere near where I needed them to be.

I sniffed, wanting to smash my head on the bath. I sluggishly got up and ran the bath. Whilst I cleaned it, I picked apart my naked body in the mirror.

_Can’t believe you were going to do it naked. Like anyone would touch you._

I don’t remember what happened for the rest of the day. Nothing notable, obviously.

That night, I went out again looking for sex, preferably paid.

Sleeping with strangers made me feel attractive, _skinny_. Because an attractive person wouldn't sleep with an ugly, _fat_ woman.

It gave me confidence.

Alcohol made me feel euphoric and energetic. I had epiphanies and the desire to speed around the world.

They both created a devilishly glorious cocktail.

The barmaid that night was harsh. She refused to serve me anymore. She was quite fat, which I took as a personal attack.

_I can't believe this disgusting slag thinks SHE can tell ME what I can drink. She's jealous because my waist is much smaller and I can wear clothes she can’t._

_That’s not my problem. It’s not my fault she has no discipline or respect for her body._

I'd like to note that these thoughts were the fault of my anorexia, which I was practically unaware of.

I'm aware that it wasn't because she was jealous of my figure, but because I drank too much.

Nonetheless, I was _deeply_ offended by this barmaid. I decided to go home; I could drink there—there was no one there to shag for free, let alone for money.

I was tired, so I decided to get the bus. I slouched in the bus stop, watching the busyness of the city.

Alcohol makes me really talkative and lively for a bit, but it drops me and I'll be in a deep, dark mood.

A mood where all I thought about was the pointlessness of my existence and how I should really just die.

But that happened most of the time anyway.

Feeling those feelings take over, I stood up and edged into a nearby alleyway. I could taste paracetamol, so shoved a finger down my throat until I threw up.

_Nice. Well done. You're pathetic. Think of the people who have to clean that up._

Then I could taste milk, and I hate milk. I belched and coughed and rubbed my eyes because I was crying now.

I wanted to lie down and sleep.

I started walking towards the bus stop, fumbling around in my bag to get something that would take that horrible taste of milk and vomit out.

I had a flask in my bag and downed the whole thing, whilst starting to sob for real. I pulled my hair out, letting it fall onto my shoulders.

The thick, blonde strands of hair fell in front of my eyes. I fell into a pebbled wall that dug into my face; it hurt and it felt good.

I repeatedly smashed my face on the wall until my nose bled and I heard a crack.

I can’t remember what I wanted from it, I only assume that I wanted to hurt myself badly, as I stopped once my nose was almost certainly broken.

The blood was warm and the pain was euphoric. It made my shiver and buckle and it aroused me as self-harm often did.

Still, my thoughts engulfed me. Brian’s voice echoing and burning in my skull.

_No one loves you. No one cares. Just die._

"You've always been right, Brian. I should just die." I croaked.

_Look at you, pathetic. You shouldn't have been born, not even your parents like you. No one likes you. It's all an act._

_I know._

_If you died, the world would be completely unaffected._

_I know._

_Why are you even alive? What do you contribute to the world? You're such a privileged twat, no one likes that. No one likes you._

_Mhm._

_You're so stupid. You cut yourself because you want too, there are people who do it because they need help. You don't need help. You're just acting depressed for attention._

_I know._

_So attention-seeking, everyone thinks it. So why don't you die? Just walk out into that road._

I looked at the road. I pictured the car hitting my body, hearing the crack of my bones, a limp body flying over a windscreen.

_You're nothing. No one would care. Why don't you do it? Hm? Just go on._

A dead Charlotte. A Charlotte that didn't bother anyone anymore.

I pictured my family, they'd be surprised at the news, but then they’d mention something else—the weather or politics, and I'd be forgotten forever.

_You know what would happen. The news would reach Mum and Dad and Martin and they'd say 'Oh well. How sad. What's for tea then?'._

_There'd be no funeral because no one cares. You'd probably be cremated, even though you want to be used for science._

_No one cares. Seven billion people on earth and not a single one cares about Charlotte Fisher._

_Not one._

I thought this and stood at the edge of the pavement.

_So just do it. One small step and it will all be over. Do something meaningful for once in your life, you selfish bitch._

There was a car approaching.

_Just one little step. Go on, coward, go on!_

"Oh Goodness. _C’est dégoûtant_. What on earth happened to your face?"

I didn't listen.

I thought about my parents and siblings.

_And not a single one would care. No friends, so no one's missing me._

_I hope Mum knows; I'm sorry I ruined her life. I know she can't hear me but I'm sorry. I know she won't forgive me but I'm sorry._

I thought of my animals.

_Wait...Who'll look after Trev without me? I can't trust anyone with her! They don't respect her as I do...And Aqua, my little cat with the stupid name. Who'll look after her?_

_How pathetic. How cowardly. You abandoning them like that. Monster._

I felt a hand wrap around my wrist, pulling me back. I slunk back, slouching down and wriggling out of the grip.

_I can't go. Not yet. I find to find someone to look after Trev._

I started to cry at the thought of my little goldfish under the care of someone that didn’t care about her. I rubbed my nose, it felt like a giant bruise.

_Oh, God. That feels horrible but it's also amazing. I feel like I need to keep touching it._

I couldn't tell exactly, it was slightly crooked. It was still bleeding. I hoped I wasn't going to have to go to the hospital.

"What on earth have you done? You stupid little thing. You've broken your nose! Hello? _Bonjour_? Are you ignoring me? That's quite rude, though I'd expect it from _you_."

I continued crying. I felt blood trickle down my chin. I stood up, ignoring Shuu Tsukiyama.

"Can you hear me? Or are you just ignoring me?"

_Go away._

"Where do you think you're going?" He asked as I started to walk off.

"Hospital," I mumbled.

"Don't mumble, it's rude."

"Fuck off," I said, making sure I didn't mumble.

_Oh, nice one. Telling the guy who's going to kill you to fuck off. Nice one. You're such a bloody genius._

I didn't have any tissues, but I tried to wipe away some of the blood from my lips and licked the blood off my chin.

“Would you like this?" Tsukiyama grabbed my arm. I looked at him. Tsukiyama handed me a tissue. I said thanks and took it. "You're quite welcome."

I sat down at the bus stop again. "Where is the uhm, nearest sick-pl—no, that is not right...ah...”

“Hospital?”

“Yes! That! Where is the nearest... _hospital_?" I asked, wiping my nose.

"That’d be Nerima General Hospital, it's too far to walk, if that's what you’re planning. To be honest, I doubt they'd let you on the bus or the train looking like that."

"Then I have to walk." I pulled away.

He paused. "I _suppose_ I could take you." He sighed.

_Pfft. No._

"Oh. No, thank you," I said.

" _Pourquoi pas_?"

_Is he serious_?

"I’m fine to walk.”

"You’re not. Come on, you’re embarrassing yourself.”

“Not like you care,” I grumbled.

_Nice one._

“Honestly, I don’t, but I’m not letting you rot out here in the cold, covered in... _fluids_.”

“ _Pourquoi pas_?” I laughed.

“Because...” He mumbled something.

“It’s rude to mumble,” I said, cheekily.

_You’re really pushing your luck here._

He scoffed. “Using my words against me, how _clever_.”

_No, I’m a fucking idiot_.

I said nothing for awhile, allowing an awkward silence.

“I’m better off dead,” I said, not thinking. “Right?”

He said nothing.

“You think so,” I said. “You will kill me, right?”

_What are you doing? Shut up!_

“No...”

“Stop lying. You know what I saw. I know what I saw. I know what you are.”

He looked at me with what I can only describe as hatred.

“You, Mr Tsukiyama, are a—”

“Shut up, you imbecile!” He snapped.

_He’s right. That was so stupid. **You’re** so stupid._

“Sorry. But...I’m not going to tell anyone, not that that matters to you. I’m not a speciesist.”

“A what?”

“A speciesist. I do not know much about ghouls and all that yet, but I do not believe in all this...I can only call it senseless murder.”

He scoffed. “I’m sure you do.”

“I’m a woman of science. If...‘ _pigeons_ ’ were being killed for research and study—”

“ _Pigeons_?”

“Yes. ‘ _Pigeons_ ’. Then it would be less of a problem for me, but I take it that is not the case?”

“No, it’s not.”

“So, I’m completely against this ‘ _pigeon_ ’ execution system...But it makes no difference to you what I think, does it? And now I’m rambling...Sorry.”

There was a silence.

" _Allez, allez_.” He sighed, eventually. “I’ll take you."

"I’m fine, really," I said again.

It didn’t work.

I don't remember what happened, but somehow I ended up going with him. I might've blacked out a bit.

I know neither of us spoke to each other in his car. I caught any stray drops of blood with the tissue, my hands or my thighs. We arrived at the hospital and soon I was waiting to be seen.

"Thanks for driving me," I said, unsure of what to do now.

"It's quite alright." He said. He showed no signs of leaving.

"You can go now," I said.

"How would you get home?"

"I can call someone."

"Who? You haven't been in Tokyo that long, and you don't have any friends."

"Well, no—"

"There you are then. Besides, what kind of man would leave a small, injured, young thing like yourself?"

_One who wants to kill me?_

"One that is going to kill me."

He shot me a look. "What on earth do you mean? You madwoman."

_Oh, we're in public. I forgot._

_Fucking idiot._

"Sorry...You can go."

"It's fine. Do you have health insurance?"

"Yes. Free health care. I can get a taxi back."

_I’ll walk. I don’t like taxis._

"There's no need. This shouldn't take long. Besides, you shouldn't trust taxi drivers."

_I don’t, and I shouldn't trust you._

"This is a hospital, and they’re notorious for long waiting times."

"Not when I'm involved."

"Sorry?”

At that moment a doctor called my name and I went in. They sorted my nose out immediately—broken.

_Great. My face is even more fucked._

They told me not to exercise for a few weeks, but that wasn't happening. Like my injury was an excuse to be a fat shit, but I didn't say that to the doctors.

After everything was done, Tsukiyama drove me back to my apartment.

"Thank you," I said. "Sorry for bothering you with this."

He didn't seem bothered, which surprised me. "It's not an inconvenience."

_It is. I am the very meaning of the word._

There was silence.

_What do I do now? Do I invite him in? He knows where I live anyway. I don't want him to come in, but that's polite, isn't it?_

"Would you like to come in?" I asked, nervously.

He looked up at my apartment block. " _Oui_ , it’s a rather cute little building, isn’t it?" He said.

_What_?

“Uh...Yes.”

_Is he going to do it now? In my home? But that's so kind...and sympathetic. That's nice._

I smiled weakly and led him up to my apartment. There was no point in hiding my address from him. He’d been in there before.

He was unimpressed by my apartment. Jack had left it in a right mess and his junk food was literally falling out of the cupboards.

I was _mortified_. "That fucking—"

I hastily cleaned up his mess and apologised profusely. I made Tsukiyama a mug of my best coffee and presented it in the best mug.

"This is not my food, I _swear_ ," I said. "I know I look like I eat a lot but I actually do not eat that much."

I was flustered. I was mortified. I was _disgusted_.

Shuu Tsukiyama would think I was some kind of lazy, disgusting, unhealthy creature who didn't care about their weight or body.

I had to prove that though I looked like a lazy, disgusting, unhealthy creature, I was trying my best to lose weight.

_He must've seen them taking my weight at the hospital—it was a little less than this morning but it was still a hundred and ten pounds...BMI of 16. He must be thinking, 'Oh, no wonder she's so fat, her BMI says she's underweight but by the looks of her she could do with an eating disorder'._

Because I was furious and knew what Tsukiyama was thinking, I gathered up all of Jack's junk food—the crisps, ice cream, pizza; the lot—from the cupboards and wherever he'd left it.

Then I put it in a black bag ready to give to homeless shelters.

They didn't deserve that ' _food_ ’, but the waste was terrible for the environment.

I'd been shopping before going out, and I'd brought it back with me. I unpacked it whilst talking to him, praying he was taking great note of the vegetables and fruits.

He looked at my bookshelf, seemingly unbothered by any food.

"You read Dostoyevsky? Tolstoy?" He asked.

"Yes. I find Russian literature very thoughtful. It is deep and it always makes me think about...Well, everything." I replied.

"You don't seem the type. Then again, you _are_ a philosophy major."

"That makes me exactly the ' _type_ ', right?”

"...Ah. Yes. Sorry, my mistake."

"You?"

"I'm more of a fan of European literature."

"What kind?"

"Whatever piques my interest."

"Oh, me too...I like sci-fi, horror, fantasy; that kind of thing."

"Ah. Like H.G. Wells and Susan Hill?"

"I love H.G. Wells—The _Invisible Man_ is one of my favourite novels. I prefer Daphne du Maurier to Susan Hill, honestly."

"Have you read any John Wyndham?"

"Yes! _The Day of the Triffids_."

"Ah, I've read _Trouble With Lichen_ , have you read that one?"

"Yes! I really liked that one.”

"Hm. I often find science fiction too far-fetched, but I enjoyed that one."

“It is not far-fetched if it is written well. Most of the time I find authors just blame whatever they cannot explain on quantum-physics, which is just...I do not quite know, but it makes me very angry.”

We talked about books for a long time—from _Jurassic Park_ and _Jaws_ to _A Christmas Carol_ and _American Psycho_.

Then I had to use the bathroom.

I spent most of that bathroom looking at myself in the mirror. First pulling up my shirt to look at my stomach, then pulling down my leggings to look at my thighs and behind, then I started pulling at my face.

_Your face is too round and fat._

_Your eyes are too big. It creeps people out._

_Eyebrows are too bushy._

_Too much acne._

_Hair is matted and oily._

_You're hideous. Why would anyone love you? Not even surgery would fix you_.

Now my nose was crooked too.

I reflected on the night before going back out to see Tsukiyama.

I was trying not to think about him murdering me, and instead about what’d happened that night. When I'd considered stepping in front of a car.

I realised I'd lost count of my attempts already in my short life.

Only a few times had I ended up in the hospital.

I didn't understand how I could be so bad at dying.

All these times I'd almost kissed Death, but I'd only ever waved at him.

I just didn't understand.

My death was inevitable, either way.

I could bring it on myself, I'd always thought, but after all these failed attempts I was losing confidence.

_I just want this to end. I'm sick of hating myself. I'm sick of being hated. I'm sick of no one caring. I'm tired of feeling nothing at all._

_I just want it to end. Please. I'm tired._

But I wouldn't have to wait long.

Because now Death was sitting in my kitchen, drinking my coffee, and I didn't know if he was going to leave whilst I was alive.


	7. 7

_ **7** _

I left the bathroom with a smile and tried to look as settled as possible.

"Ah, I was beginning to worry a little." Tsukiyama looked over at me with a bit of disinterest in his eyes.

At least, I think it was that. He looked like the ' _bored_ ’ emotion card my therapist had once shown me.

"Sorry. I have a urine infection." I said.

That took him aback. " _Well_...You should stay hydrated."

"I do."

_Drinking water makes me look fat._

"Not if you've got an infection. You must not drink enough."

"UTI's aren't just caused by dehydration. They can be caused by E. Coli—"

"What about intercourse? You get plenty of that, don't you?"

_That was unnecessary._

I gulped. "I do."

"I've seen. You've made a nice little career for yourself, I ses."

_I get it. You watch me. I know._

I smiled awkwardly and made a noise.

_Fucking stupid bitch. Can't do anything right._

Tsukiyama glanced at me with a terrible amount of disdain—like I was some kind of cancer and he was...Well, like he was him.

"Ah..." He paused.

Aqua had emerged from her nap and was now bouncing around. She was chewing and scratching his trouser leg with a vengeance.

"OhmyGod! Stop!" I cried. I went and kneeled at his feet, picking up my destructive kitten. "I am so sorry."

_Woah. Those are some leathery shoes...I bet they smell nice._

I looked up at Tsukiyama, who wasn't that much taller than me.

"It's fine." He said.

I started to stand up, realising that I was incredibly close to his lower body.

_Oop. You've been in this position a lot before._

_Can we not? He already thinks I'm a slut, and he wants to kill me._

_You are a slut._

_I wonder how big it is...All that sitting crosslegged has got to take its toll._

_Slut._

_It must be warm._

_Whore._

I stood up. "Sorry. She still has not learnt to use the scratch post."

"What's her name?"

"Aqua. Stupid name, yes, but it was the name she had when I bought her and they told me not change it. I could have anyway, but I had no ideas."

"I see."

"She's only about a few months old."

"Clearly."

I laughed nervously and stroked Aqua's fur. She mewed softly.

"Do you have family back in England?" Tsukiyama asked.

_You know that._

"Yes. In Wales; I'm Welsh. My parents and my siblings."

"What about your friends? Where are your friends, Charlotte?"

_You know I don't have any. You said so._

"I do not have any friends. Well—I have Trev and Aqua...my cockroaches and hamster...But no, no friends."

_You knew that._

"Cockroaches?"

"They're very good pets. They eat all the leftover fruit and vegetables and they're quiet when it's not mating season."

_Most of my food is for those cockroaches, actually._

"So no _real_ friends then?"

"I think they are _real_ friends."

"So no one to care then?" He smiled.

I blinked. "No."

"So who do you live with? If not a friend."

"Just a student. He is...I do not like him at all. He is messy and he eats terribly. He does not exercise or read or even watch horror films. I cannot think of a worse person to live with."

He chuckled, for once laughing at something I said. "Oh, I'm sure you could."

"I am hoping to find a new roommate, someone that lives healthier at least."

"Of course. Hm...Have you been to that cafe over the road?" Tsukiyama asked suddenly.

_Why'd he change the subject like that?_

I gulped, a bit unsure. "Anteiku? Yes, it is nice."

"I was just about to say so." He smiled.

I smiled back and nuzzled into Aqua. My stomach growled loudly and that was the most embarrassing thing ever.

_You fat bitch. Why'd you have to do that? You sound like a greedy pig!_

"Sorry," I said.

"I'm not surprised. You look like you haven't eaten in weeks."

_I_ _hardly have and yet I'm still this fat._

"I have." I lied. "I'm just a glutton."

"You look anything but."

"Please do not try to flatter me. I do not like it."

"It's anorexia, isn't it?"

"Could you please stop?" I snapped.

_Why did you just say that? Idiot._

I kept talking. "I get it. You did your research on me. You know everything about me. You are scaring me, and you know that. I'm scared. I get it. Please, just _stop_ it."

"I don't want to."

_Why would he care about your little snowflake feelings? Hm? Why would he?_

_He doesn't._

I didn't have anything to say to his reply, so I just looked down, embarrassed of myself.

There was an uncomfortable pause.

"Why don't you have anyone?" He asked, suddenly.

I jumped. "What?"

"Pardon. Why don't you have anyone? Everyone needs someone, to my understanding, what makes you so different?"

"Nothing. I just do not get on with people."

"You'll never get along with _everyone_."

"I just can't do people. They demand too much and I always end up upsetting them."

"And animals don't demand anything from you?"

"People _are_ animals."

"You know what I mean."

"Animals can stick to a routine. Animals don't stab you in the back. Animals don't ask stupid questions."

He looked at me with an expression I didn't know.

There was another awkward silence.

" _Mon Dieu_! Is that the time?" Tsukiyama said suddenly. I looked over. "I really ought to be going, I have an event to get to."

_This late?_

I stood. "I can walk you out."

I walked him to the door and said farewell, pressing my bony arse against it.

I sighed a sigh of relief and a strand of hair came loose. I tucked it behind my ear and stood away from the door.

I caught sight of my repulsive thighs and calves as I looked down and hit my legs, wishing the perceived fat to melt away.

I felt grossly aware of my legs and saw them in the oven reflection.

I had been going to make myself a bowl of celery and carrot sticks with some homemade hummus, maybe even some crackers, but the emptiness in my stomach suddenly ceased and I ran into the bathroom.

I took my leggings, underwear and socks off to stare at my hideous lower body.

_I look like a pig. Even my toes look fat._

_Urgh. Look at your vagina. Look! Look at how fat you are! Even your vagina has fat on it! Disgusting!_

_My vagina resembles an active volcano._

_A fat active volcano._

_Volcanos can't be fat._

_Exactly. You're the exception. Fatass_.

Let me explain; I suffer from Trichotillomania. It's mild on my legs, but my pubic region does resemble an active volcano because of it.

It started when I was fourteen—with an annoying pubic hair. I plucked it with tweezers and became infatuated.

Soon, I was sitting on the toilet for hours, _pluck-pluck-plucking_ away until there were bald patches. I tried shaving, but that only made me do it more.

I've tried to stop but it's too hard. It's like if I don't do it once a day I can't function.

So, I'm pretty insecure about my vagina too, even if it is my own fault.

I pulled at the skin of my thighs and even tried to bite it off. I weighed myself, started crying, measured each leg—both nineteen inches.

_URGH! Some girls have waists that small. Do you hear? Your thighs are as big as someone's waist._

I checked my waist—twenty-three inches.

_I took two hundred calories out and it's STILL not any smaller!_

Chest—twenty-nine.

_Urgh. I don't want these boobs. Why won't they drop off? I don't need them. Urgh. Stupid lumps of fat._

Hips—thirty.

I managed to stop and pulled up my shirt.

_Is it just me or do my ribs look fainter today?_

_That's it. I'm not eating tonight. I'm having my apple cider vinegar and that's it._

I pulled my pyjamas on and looked at my face, picking it apart.

I started thinking about Shuu Tsukiyama.

_Imagine what he must think of me._

_'Weak, pathetic, ugly Charlotte Fisher, offering nothing to the world—a professional waste of space.'_

_Yep, that's me._

_I wonder if he's watching me now. Probably._

I shuddered.

_God, why would he watch me? I'm so ugly. Who'd want to look at me all the time?_

_Not a man as attractive as him, that's for sure._

_Why did he take me to the hospital?_

_Why not just let me struggle?_

_I wish I could understand._

_And why did he come in? To get another layout of my apartment?_

_You invited him._

_But why did he say yes?_

_Oh, God. I wish I'd never come here. I wish I'd stayed in Oxford._

_I hate this. I hate it._

_I hate being watched and I hate knowing I'm going to die._

_I don't want to die. I don't want to die. Not like that._

_I want to go home. I wish I'd told Flora to go fuck herself and I could've gone back to stripping._

_I want that back. I want to go home._

I started crying, then I heard the door open and stopped.

_Great. Now roommate from hell is back._

I reluctantly snuck in, just as Jack stepped on Aqua. I gasped. "NO!" And ran over.

Aqua squeaked and ran away. I picked her up and kissed her and checked she was OK.

"What the—The dumb cat, why didn't it move?" Jack snapped.

"Why didn't you look where you were going?" I replied.

"I did look where I was going."

"It didn't look like it." I went and took Aqua to my room.

I noticed Jack's Jack Russell—Jacqui—was whining and staring at me. She'd tried Jack, but he'd told her to fuck off.

I squatted down and invited her into my room.

"He's a pig, isn't he?" I whispered to her. "Look what I bought for you," I whispered, pulling out a chewy treat. "Yes, just for—Oh."

She gobbled it up like she hadn't eaten all day.

Because she hadn't.

I stormed out of my room. "When did you last feed your dog?" I asked.

Jack shrugged. "Where are my Pocky?"

"When did you last feed your dog?"

"This morning, where are my—"

"In the bin. She's hungry. What did you feed her?"

"Uhh...A sachet of something."

"That's kitten food. Where's her food?"

"Her food? What about _my_ food?"

"You aren't starving."

"I am starving. I haven't eaten since lunch."

"She hasn't eaten since...Well, frankly I don't know. Are you drunk?"

"Had a few."

"For fuck's sake. She's a live animal, not a toy."

"Well, you'll do it anyway."

"Yes, I will, because otherwise, she'll die, _(you selfish bastard_ )."

"Piss off. Where's my pizza?"

"In the bin."

"Where's all of my food?"

"In the bin."

"What? Why? You took my ice cream too!"

"It's all in the bin."

"Why? Why is it in the bin?"

"Because I put it in there."

"Why?"

"Because you left it everywhere and it was embarrassing."

"So we have no food?"

"We have vegetables, whole grains—I even bought you chicken."

"Great. Raw chicken."

"Well, the funny thing is...You can cook raw chicken. I know, crazy right?"

"You're a fucking bitch."

"You're an unhealthy pig."

He looked offended, which was good because that might've encouraged him to change.

"Do you know how fucking rude you are?"

"You started it. Since getting here, all you've done is get drunk, leave your mess everywhere and eat the worst food possible. You've let your dog starve and almost killed my cat twice. You're lazy, unhealthy and just a bad influence."

"And you're an uptight, arrogant, anorexic bitch that lives off alcohol."

_Ha! Anorexic. You wish._

I shook my head. "I don't care what you think. Now, I'm going to feed your dog and go to my room. And if you want to live like a pig, then I suggest you go find a pigpen to live in."

_Wow. What a burn. You really got him with that sharp wit._

_Shut up a minute._

_You're a dumb—_

"Why am I the one that has to move?" Jack asked.

_You're a dumb cunt._

"Because I'm the one that's got _privileges_."

_Don't use that word._

"You only get privileges because you're a spaz."

I scoffed. "A spaz?"

_He's right. You're a fucking retard. You're nothing. Nothing._

"See this?" I started feeding Jacqui. I was going to go to bed. "It took me two seconds to feed her. Goodnight."

"Fuck you. What am I supposed to eat?"

"How would an anorexic bitch know?"

_Oh wow...Aren't you clever?_

"You fucking—"

"There's this new invention called Google. Why don't you try it?"

I went into my bedroom and sat on the floor with a sigh. I put on a film and did some exercise.

I tried to get into my schoolwork, but I got distracted by my reflection in the TV screen. I looked at the flatness of my stomach and felt my stomach, counting my ribs and the ab line.

I got frustrated. I could've sworn I put on more weight.

I couldn't weigh myself, so I measured my waist. It was half an inch bigger.

I screamed. My thighs and hips were the same but my fucking waist wasn't.

And my boobs were bigger. I knew they felt swollen.

My mind was in fractures. I didn't know if I could restrict my calories anymore.

_You're too weak. You're a fat, weak shit._

I thought of something and went on Amazon.

_They're not expensive._

_You won't do it. You're too much of a coward._

_It's dangerous. Really dangerous...but nothing else is working._

_You need them. The world health organisation would probably tell you you needed them. Fatass._

I ordered them.

I knew exactly what those pills could do to me, I was an entomology major, of course, I knew.

But I thought it was the only way. The only way I thought I could lose more weight.

I knew it was wrong, but I craved to be thinner, whatever the price. I'd have eaten ten of those pills if it meant I'd lose weight.

I felt reassured by those pills. I was even a little happy about it.

_If this doesn't work, then I must have a condition stopping me from losing weight._

I was terrified deep down. I was scared about everything, really.

I sought out reassurance, so I returned to the Pro-ana website and joined a group, listening to the moderator's consolation.

They said I was doing the right thing. I was brave for it. I deserved it. It’d pay off, I'd see. I was doing the _right_ thing.

Honestly, that group made me sick, even at my worst points. Nonetheless, I was hooked on it.

I didn't dare go on after a ' _binge_ ' or a _'bad day_ ', because I wanted those moderators and people in the group to like me so much.

It’d started when I left _Lady Godiva's_. I needed attention and punishment from someone; they were there for me.

They were proud of me.

I never made any real friends there, thank God, but those groups don't ever leave you.

What they said stays in my mind. I hear their voices when I eat sometimes.

I wish they'd go away. I wish I wasn't so attention-seeking.

I spent hours on the group, listening to conversation, seldom speaking. I stayed until everyone else was gone—presumably exhausted.

I sat on my bed, clutching Humphrey—my favourite stuffed toy, a dromedary camel—and stared at Vesalius opposite me.

I saw tiny waists when I closed my eyes, which only frustrated me more. I looked at Vesalius’ skeletal frame as he faded to a shadow in the darkness of my room.

_Skinny._

It was all I could think about.

I tried to sleep, but I failed. Food, hunger and waistlines filled my mind.

I compared myself to a Wendigo or a Chenoo. That hunger, that deep, ravenous hunger. It's addictive, that hunger.

You want to eat but you want to starve.

An angry, emaciated, _hungry_ monster.

I attempted to bring my mind away from food, thinking about dromedary camels, goldfish and giant millipedes. How they bred, survived...what they ate.

_Shit. No. Not that._

_How about mythology? That's nice._

I thought of Tengus, Kappas, the Monkey King, Jōrogumos, the Oni, and my favourite—the Qilin.

Oh, the Qilin.

That beautiful beast. The Chinese Unicorn. A creature so gentle and kind, that it refuses to step on a blade of grass.

That creature has fascinated me as much as the wendigo.

I fell into deep thought about the gentle beast, and longed to see one. Then my thoughts faded to nothing, and Shuu Tsukiyama began to replace the Qilin shaped hole in my mind.

I was fascinated by him.

But mostly scared.

He—a godlike creature—wanted to kill me.

Me, who wasn't a godlike creature.

Me. Just me.

Little Charlotte Fisher.

I wasn't even to close to his level. I was just a name, a number, someone to suck your dick or rub you off for a quick buck.

I was whatever people wanted me to be.

But not Shuu Tsukiyama. He was a God and a saint.

I was nothing.

That terrified me.

This godlike creature was going to kill me.

I didn't stand a chance, and I was petrified.

I paced and plucked my hairs and cried, thinking only about him.

Then, at one of those hours in the early morning, I started to feel differently.

I was suddenly offended by him.

Because I was nothing to him.

Being nothing to him angered, saddened and aroused me.

I was turned on by how little he thought of me. How degenerative I was.

I wanted to prove my worth. The only way I knew how.

With sexual favours.

And I wanted it. I really wanted it.

I started masturbating furiously, thinking of the demeaning actions I'd have to go through to prove my worth.

How much pain and bloodshed I'd have to indure.

It was mesmerising.

I was a slobbering mess of horniness by the end.

I couldn't help being turned on.

I was aware my desires with Shuu Tsukiyama would never be satiated.

Because he was going to kill me, unless I killed myself first.

I didn't know how to express that, so I just kept on masturbating.

I was like a wendigo again; only with an insatiable hunger for sex.

I was so horny that I started thinking about fucking inanimate objects.

I don't know how I got to that point, but I did and soon I was humping my pillows.

After attempting to fuck my bed linen, I went to the toilet and lay awake, thinking about sex because that makes me fall asleep.

Thinking of sex calms me down, and I've always thought about it to get to sleep.

It just works.

I was thinking about screwing a ton of hot werewolves, but that wasn't doing it.

So I started thinking about _literally_ fucking Death.

And so my last thoughts before sleeping were incredibly stupid and horny.

_OhmyGod._

_I think I'm in love with Death._

_Wow. The love of my life is a natural event, isn't that tragic?_

_Wait..._

_Can you even fuck Death?_


	8. 8

**8**

Obviously, you can't fuck a natural event.

I meant, (I think), the personification of Death. That dark shadow or Grim Reaper. That Death.

The Grim Reaper’s been around for centuries and more. As many Gods of Death.

One the first times we see an example of the traditional Grim Reaper is during the 14th century, in the grips of the Great Plague. Medicine was hardly advanced and the supernatural was a common cause, according to medieval folk. I also like to note the similarities between the typical plague doctor and the Reaper.

Forgive me, I’ve gotten distracted.

History and mythology are favourites of mine.

Let’s not get me started on the Qilin or anything from the Algonquin Tribe.

Anyway.

The idea of the Grim Reaper especially has always entertained me. It's a creature built out of pure fear. We couldn't explain a natural event, so we had to personify it.

We had to turn it into something that we thought could be defeated and negotiated with.

In some old tales, we hear of sailors cheating Death; by lying to it and never returning to the sea, thus escaping it for a short while.

But Death is not a creature. It is not material. It’s not made of atoms.

Technically, it doesn’t even exist, but again, that’ll get me distracted.

Death just is.

It never was or will be, it simply _is_.

It’s like time, really.

And I've spoken enough.

I'd been thinking a lot about the Death and particularly the myth and folklore surrounding the Grim Reaper.

After I thought about screwing the Grim Reaper, I wasted most of my day researching it.

I did my schoolwork and worked out and did other stuff, but I found myself fixated on the personification of Death.

Eventually, my brain turned to mush and my hands were wrecked.

I didn't feel like going out—it was so cold and I didn't know if I could deal with actual people—so staying in my apartment seemed to be the best option.

However, Jack wasn't going to take care of his dog. I decided to take Jacqui out and forced myself to go shopping.

I sat with her on the bus, her small body warming my freezing one. I didn't understand how no one else was freezing.

I was so cold I started crying.

I'd sworn to my Pro-Ana group leader that I wouldn't consume over three hundred calories today, but I couldn't cope. I needed something warm.

I didn't like lying, especially not to the moderator, but I promised to exercise extra later.

I found a café and ordered a flat white. I found myself staring at its milky swirl and I wanted desperately to chug its milky goodness.

I thought of its calorie content, deciding that I could burn it off later. My phone rang, distracting me, and for once I answered.

It was the strip club I'd applied for. They wanted to see me a few days later.

I said yes, and became a little cheerier.

I almost didn't notice a boyish-looking woman smiling at me.

She was foreign, like me, with short red hair and round glasses. I got very flustered at the sight of her. I watched her and trailed behind her slightly at the shop.

I followed her around to different shops, but eventually, I ran out of time and had to go.

I thought of her when I went home but soon moved back to the Grim Reaper.

I didn't have work the next day either, but I went in to do some paperwork because there was overtime on offer and I had time.

I handled reception most of the time, which consisted of making coffees and phone calls.

It did get a bit interesting though.

The Icelandic woman that'd been at the fitness exam—Lydia Kristofdottir—walked in. She had a large bag with her.

I looked up. She smiled at me. "Oh! It's you!" She giggled.

"Yes?" I said.

"Sorry. Is this your district?"

"Yes."

"I didn't take you for a secretary."

"I’m part-time. Patrol, paperwork, this, only two crime scenes ever. Nothing exciting."

"Oh, of course."

"What can I do for you?"

"Oh! Right. Haha. Sorry. I'm your new lieutenant. I need to speak to a Lieutenant Morimine?"

"I will go get him."

"Thank you, sweetheart."

_Ew._

Morimine acted odd around her, he couldn't meet her eye. They went into his office and spoke about whatever.

I only saw Morimine when I was photocopying something.

"Fisher?" He asked, as if still unsure of my name.

"Mhm?" I looked over.

"The Chief looked at your file. He said you should be getting mental health care."

"Oh...Sorry. I should have asked..."

"Yes. You should've."

"I am very sorry. I did not think—"

"Forget it. You've been assigned a therapist with your local hospital."

"You can do that?"

"Officers with mental health issues have access to a therapist. Your old therapist in England signed you up."

_The bitch._

"Really? Good."

_No. Not good. Bad._

"You'll have all the letters soon. Just thought you'd like to know."

"Thank you, sir. I am very sorry. I should have mentioned."

"Just don't do it again."

He left.

_You’re a failure. He hates you._

I took my paperwork back to the sergeant that had asked for it—Souma Himari.

Himari was one of the top sergeants in the seventh ward. She was beautiful, sharp and ambitious, with a long career ahead of her.

She intimidated and aroused me, because like Shuu Tsukiyama, she was _better_ than me. I couldn't take that, even if I didn't care for police-work at all.

I handed her the paperwork, and she adjusted her lilac scarf and looked at it sternly.

"Where's the Dog file?" She snapped.

"The... _Dog_ file?"

"The file on the puppies in the river?" She said it like I was stupid, but I wasn't.

"In the middle somewhere."

"Where in the middle?"

"I do not know. There are forty pages there—"

"Don't backchat me. I need that file."

"I know, and it is in there—"

"Where?"

"I told you—"

"Are you sure you _actually_ photocopied it?"

"I saw it come out."

"You can look for it then, because it's not here." She shoved the files into my hand.

I sifted through and found it. "Here it is."

She inspected it. "Hm. You can go now. Actually—I'd like a coffee. Skinny latte, from the café over the road."

I waited for her to give me money, but she didn't. I went and got her a latte and got money. She said it wasn't her normal one, but it was.

I was tempted to get a full-fat one with extra sugar, but decided against it.

When I got home, the mental health letters were in my letterbox. I took them upstairs and saw I had an appointment the day after the next—apparently, it was _urgent_.

This went against my routine and I panicked. I considered not going. I didn’t care about police work, surely it’d be fine to go back to full-time sex work?

I also had to go alone, which was awful. I can't talk to therapists, I just freeze and I can't speak.

I cried and got into another fight with Jack. He left to go and drink with his friends.

I left too, wandering the streets of Tokyo.

I ran for a bit until I couldn't. I was away from home by then. I can run for ages.

I wasn't the only runner out, but I stood out because I wasn’t wearing my running clothes. I looked like a Sim when you let them do whatever they want.

As I made my way back to Nerima, I heard someone call out to me.

It was Pasha. He had a little dog with him—a Pomeranian.

"Hi!" He said.

"Oh. Good evening." I said, embarrassed that I looked winded.

"Out for a night-run?"

_Would've been better to say evening run, but whatever._

"Yes, and you?"

"Yeah. I need to do more cardio."

_He clearly lifts a lot. I respect that he respects cardio too._

"Is that yours?" I asked.

"Oh, yeah. This is Alexei. He's my little baby. Say hi, Alex."

“Can I...uh—”

“Sure.”

I petted Alex, whose tongue lolled out. "Is he getting in cardio too?"

"Uh-huh. Two birds; one bullet."

"Mhm."

"Are you alright?"

"Yes, you?"

"Yeah, you look worried."

"Do I?"

"Come. Do you want to sit?"

"I shouldn't..."

"Are you busy?"

"No."

"Come. You look cold, Pigeon."

_Pigeon. Bit weird._

_I mean, I like pigeons, but it’s a bit odd._

"I like pigeons."

"Me too. Come on."

We sat together in a café. I refused to ingest anything, but Pasha had water.

He told me that he had a parrot called Kiwi, and said I could meet her if I wanted.

I told him about my pets and about my studies, he tried to seem interested, but at least he wasn't rude.

I told him that I liked writing and he asked if I'd published anything. I said not yet.

"What do you write?"

"Anything."

"Finished anything?"

"A few."

"Masterpieces?"

"No."

"What are you publishing?"

"It's a three-part fantasy series. About Chinese mythology."

"I could never get into fantasy."

"I think it requires a certain imagination."

"I'm not really that...uh...im-imag-imaginative."

"What do you like?"

"Not really anything. I just read what sounds good."

"I'm kinda like that." I nodded.

There was silence.

"Can I ask you something?" I asked.

"Sure."

"You don't know anything about being assigned a therapist, do you?"

He nodded. "I have one. You?"

"Mhm."

"Who did you get?"

"Uh, Sakura Tabara?"

"Oh! She’s mine too! She is fine, really, she will just give you medication."

"Like antidepressants?"

"Yeah."

"I don't want that."

His face did something I didn't understand. "OK...Honestly, I don't think it's really the talky-therapy."

"But they're therapists. They're meant to talk to you."

"Mine didn't. Maybe yours will."

I was getting more panicked now.

"Oh no. Did I worry you? Sorry. It will be fine."

"It won't. This always happens. All they ever care about is medication—"

"Why don't I come with you?"

What?

"What?"

"I could come to your appointment with you. Or is someone else going?"

_What does he want? He wouldn’t offer that if he didn’t want something. Not after how I’ve treated him._

"Someone else? No...No, they aren't, but you don't have to come."

"Don't go alone, that's hell. I'll come if that's OK?"

“But I...I’ve been horrible to you. Why would you want to come?”

He shrugged. “It’s hell on your own, and someone has to make sure you actually go.”

I paused. I would've said no, but I wanted someone with me.

I didn’t understand why Pasha would offer to go with me after how I’d been treating him. He should’ve told me to go fuck myself, really.

I wondered if maybe he wanted something out of it. Perhaps to blackmail or bully me in some way.

"That's very kind of you." I said.

"Oh. It's nothing. When?"

"Uh, day after tomorrow."

"Sure. Day after tomorrow."

"Uh. Thank you...if it doesn't work for you—"

"It does. Come on. Would you like me to walk you home?"

"No, it's fine."

"Where do you live?"

I paused.

"Nerima."

"That's far. Let me go get my car. It's five minutes away. I swear."

So he took me home.

I decided that I liked Pasha Sorokin a bit more, despite my being a complete bitch towards him.

However, I remained concerned that maybe he just wanted to fuck me or use me for something.

That’s what’d happened before.

I’d no doubt it’d happen again.


	9. Chapter 9

**9**

I didn't want to get up in the morning.

I didn't want to go.

I only got three hours of sleep that night, I'd had a nightmare and I was awake when my alarm went off.

I delayed, but Jacqui needed to wee and I had to run. I took Jacqui out for a run, but I ended up carrying her most of it.

I felt dissatisfied with my run, so I went through a dance routine before deciding to do something else.

I wasn't going to eat or drink that morning, because therapists love weighing me.

I decided to make a sock monkey when Jack emerged from his room. He started toasting waffles and I wondered what kind of glutton ate waffles for breakfast.

Even from a non-anorexic point of view; what kind of barbarian eats that for breakfast?

Jack looked around the flat. "Hey. Can't you keep your fetish toys to your bedroom?"

"Hm?" I looked up.

He was holding a stuffed Eeyore I'd left on the sofa.

"Sorry. I just—"

"It's embarrassing when I have friends over."

"OK. Sorry." I took my things and decided to move to my room. My room was small, but I was able to fit heaps in it.

I had a foldable bed that doubled as a storage space. My pole went up when I folded my bed up, and I had a travel spin bike in the laundry room with a foldable treadmill and bench, my weights in any nook and cranny.

It required discipline, as everything had to be tidy and organised.

I’d only really ever struggled with my toys. I had heaps of Sylvanian Families, Lego, figures from horror films, video games and Doctor Who, and stuffed animals that seemed to fill every corner of the room.

My pets took up a lot of room too.

I sat on the floor to make my monkey and told Trev—my goldfish—about how I was worried about my appointment.

She was perfect company.

I gave her some peas and she sucked on my fingers. I fed everyone else, then played with Aqua for a few minutes. After that, I made sure all my plants were watered, before leaving.

I met Pasha in the hospital café. I refused to drink anything.

I told him that I wouldn't be able to talk to my doctor and he shrugged and said that that was fine.

He wrote down some questions he knew she'd ask and I answered them. He told me more about his pets, then we talked about the tattoos and piercings we had and were getting.

It was nice. _Really_ nice.

About half an hour later we went in.

Doctor Sakura Tabara was too pretty—in her mid-thirties, with long brown hair and brown eyes. She had circular glasses and some very pretty lips.

I hated her on sight and I spent the entire appointment sizing her up.

The only thing I had going for me was the fact that I was skinnier than her.

Skinnier. _Better_.

I looked at her wrists whilst wrapping my fingers around my own wrists. I studied how her clothing fell against her body, how mine was baggier and hers was fitted.

I wore children's clothes if I wanted a good fit, whereas I put her as an average Japanese.

I was a bit taller, and I estimated that we were about the same weight.

She had a nicer voice than me. Higher pitched and smooth.

I looked at the floor, because she kept trying to meet my eyes. She asked lots of questions and I didn't answer. I _couldn't_ answer. Anything I wanted to say didn't make it past my throat. It was like my lips were sewn together.

Pasha answered what he could for me, but he didn't know half of it. How could he?

I'd only known him a few days and all he knew was what I'd told him. What I wanted him to tell the doctors.

I’d treated him terribly and I was still suspicious of him. How could he know anything?

Doctor Tabara mentioned medication quite a lot but said she'd try behavioural therapy for a few months.

_It won't work. It never has._

_I'm simply beyond help._

_I don't understand why I'm here. There are billions of people on the planet who need actual help, and people like me just sit here wasting time, money and energy._

She made an appointment with me two weeks later. Pasha said he'd come with me, though in my head I'd already decided I wasn't going.

After the appointment, Pasha tried to coax me into having a drink of something. To my dismay, I caved under the hunger and had a cappuccino.

I cursed myself afterwards. I hadn't been weighed but I was certain I'd gained more weight.

I decided to weigh myself the next opportunity I got. Conveniently, I had to go to the gym afterwards. I went there and weighed myself straight away.

I was a kilo lighter, so I was delighted. I immediately went to go lift some weights.

The weights area was never busy, (the Japanese were almost exclusively strict cardio-bunnies), so I didn't have to deal with icky equipment or loads of pudgy old men telling me I'd ' _bulk up_ ' and my favourite, ‘ _you look like a man_ ’.

Once a guy in Alaska apologised for staring because he, and I quote, ‘ _wasn’t used to vaginas in the weight room_ ’.

Weirdest moment of my life, and I once tried to fuck a chair.

I remember it was bench day that day; my favourite day. I’d just finished my final set when Shuu Tsukiyama wandered into the weights room.

He acknowledged me with a simple nod, before going to squat.

I was cooling down and looked over at him out of sheer horny thirst.

"OhmyGod, no!" I cried, leaping up, and bouncing over.

"What?" He snapped.

"Sorry. Uh. Your form. It's terrible. You will damage your back and knees like that."

"My form? Don't be ridiculous. _C’est parfait_."

"No. It is awful. You look awful."

He was offended. "Excuse me, but I've been doing this for three years."

"I have done it for eight. Look. Your bar path is not straight, you are not going deep enough and your back is hunched."

"And what should I be doing?"

"The opposite of everything I just said. Also, your feet need to be out. You literally have the worst form I have ever seen.”

He blinked, staring at me.

“Sorry, but it is. I can show you. What weight is this?"

"Fifty-five."

"That is so low because of your terrible form."

"I'm doing high-rep, low-weight. It's more effective, _actually.”_

"OK; no, i-it-it’s not. You are barely squatting a hundred pounds. If you have been lifting for three years you should be squatting at least double that. Low-rep, high weight is way more effective for strength, uh, sorry...What is the word in Japanese? Strength...Strength... _gains_. Sorry."

"It's fine."

"Who’s advice have you been listening to?"

"A trainer—a _professional_."

"Not a good one. Watch me squat, this is how you do it."

Fifty-five kilos was nothing.

I was anorexic but I was strong enough. I had solid muscle and not enough fat. I was like a teeny bikini competitor...all year-round. Which is neither healthy nor sustainable.

I squatted and deadlifted for him and then I showed him how to do it.

"This doesn't feel at all comfortable." He said.

"That is because you have been using bad form for three years. Can I see what else you are doing today?"

"Of course."

His weight training was a complete mess.

I couldn't believe how awful it was. He'd actually paid someone for that.

A ' _celebrity_ ' trainer, apparently.

"Jesus."

"What?"

"This is beyond awful. You might as well judt do cardio."

"You’re qualified, yes? I know you’re a yoga teacher, but—”

_I get it. You stalk me._

"I became qualified when I was eighteen."

"You enjoy it?"

"I live for it. Lots of biology. Anyway. Nothing about this program what works. Seriously."

"Really?”

“Mhm. It sucks.”

“So, what do I do?”

"Try _StrongLifts_ or _Starting Strength._ It’s perfect for beginners."

"What?"

"I can show you."

I showed him and helped him do all the exercises. He was lacking in all lifts, but I hoped he'd be better off now he was on the right program.

"It’s very kind of you to help." He said.

"Oh, no, you were embarrassing yourself and the sport." I checked the time. "Oh no. I have to go. I have an, uh, interview."

_Lie._

"An interview? About what?"

"Just—I'm sorry. I have to go. Uh, good luck."

"Oh, well, bonne chance! Merci beaucoup."

I was sure he said something after that, but I really did need to go. Not for an interview, I just really had to do something.

After I did what I had to do, I went home and sat down to drink something.

It was a new liquid diet I was doing. A fad that had you consuming a glorified laxative for seven days.

I hated it and I hated myself.

I knew it wasn't healthy. I'd studied health and fitness extensively, I knew the human body intimately.

Yet I still starved myself and worked to the bone. I didn't know why, but I thought everything was fine.

I knew it was only going to kill me.

And I didn't care.

I wondered when my tapeworm pills would get there, so I could finally slim down my thighs more.

I didn't want to drink the weight-loss drink, it tasted like rancid, artificial strawberry.

I poured it down the drain, wanting to vomit.

I saw that it had the same calories as half an apple, so I ate that.

But then I ate the other half, and another apple.

I felt awful. I immediately went out for a long run, wearing weights to burn more.

I returned two hours later.

When I returned, I was exhausted. I saw this as a sign of weakness, so tried to exercise more. I failed.

I can't remember if I passed out or not, but I remember being exhausted and starving. I barely had the energy to crawl into bed.

I overslept in the morning, and I got shouted at by lieutenant Morimine. He called me a ' _disgrace_ ' and muttered something about foreigners.

I was hurt by what he said, but it was true.

_He's exactly right. I shouldn't be here. I'm just a waste of space; a royal disgrace._

_I should just quit. Stop bothering these good people. It's not like I'm an asset or anything, I'm just a mediocre, part-time student. I should leave._

I considered resigning then and there. I could always work as a trainer or yoga teacher. Sex work always paid well, but I did that already, as well as occasionally sending fetish photos to creeps. I could always go full time, and hopefully, my stripping job would pull through and I could resign from this job.

In the meantime, Souma Himari had me running around like her personal secretary; getting coffees, arranging her appointments and doing her paperwork for her.

Paperwork that I didn't know if I could do. She told me I could and would when I objected.

Every time I carried out one of her tasks, she had a problem. I blamed myself, even though some of it was out of my control.

"These strawberries are too soft."

"Oh...Oh, no...I'm so sorry. I will go and return them."

"Urgh. Just leave it." She mumbled something about me being stupid.

"I'm so sorry." I whimpered.

"Where's my copy of the paper? I asked you for it."

_No, you didn't_.

"Did you? Sorry. I must have forgotten."

"Urgh. Seriously? Can't you do anything right?" She snapped.

It was then that a new sergeant—Hajime Ryōma—came in and intervened.

"Come on, Himari, lay off the kid. She's hardly been here a week." He said.

Himari grumbled something. "Just..." She paused. "Go and get me a paper." She stood and went to go and meet someone.

"Uhm...Thanks." I mumbled, blushing at this new person.

Ryōma shrugged. "It's nothing. Himari can be harsh, is all."

I nodded. I wanted to ask about the Nashimura Murders, but I was scared of being shouted at again. Both Ryōma and Himari were working it, and even though I was disgraced, I was a bit curious.

Maybe I was more curious about Shuu Tsukiyama’s involvement, but I was intrigued.

I decided not to push it, I could ask Pasha. He was higher up than me anyway.

As I walked off, I saw the newly enlisted Lydia Kristofdottir emerging from her office. She gasped and bounced up to me.

"Good afternoon." She said. "Where are you off to?"

"Uh. Going to get a, uh, a paper...f-f-for Sergeant Himari." I said.

"You’re not a secretary."

"Well...Sergeant Himari asked, so I have to do it, and to be honest, that’s mostly all I do.”

She sighed. "Well...Why don't you come to me first? Believe me, I've got plenty of actual work for you."

"Oh...It’s fine. I should not really have 'big' work."

"Part-time officer, not a secretary." She smiled warmly. She looked me up and down. "You look awful. Sorry, but you look ill. Are you feeling alright, sweetheart?"

I nodded. "I'm just...I have...uh. I do not know the word in Japanese. I am...I am blood iron-less? No...I have...low iron."

"Anaemia?"

"Yes! Anaemia. I have anaemia."

_Lie._

"Oh. You poor thing." She paused. "Why don't you go and get something to eat? I can get this paper for you."

"Oh, no. I'm not hungry."

_Ravenous._

"Sweetie, you're about to faint. What paper is it?"

I tried to refuse, but it was no use. I was pushed into the makeshift staff kitchen and forced to sit with my lunch.

I packed lunch for show—vegetable sticks with some fruit. I thought about picking at it, as I hadn't had breakfast.

There were other people in the room, and I knew they'd be watching, judging me eat. I tried to gather the courage to eat, but I got distracted.

Amongst the others in the room, I noticed a fat woman in the corner. She looked sad, and I wondered what was wrong.

_Perhaps it's her weight? I'd be upset if I was that big._

Then I realised that her stomach looked a bit too perfectly rounded and sturdy. She was pregnant.

_Maybe it's the baby. If I was pregnant I'd be upset._

I felt quite sorry for her either way. Which never happens. She just looked so sad.

I didn't know her name, only that she was Himari's friend. She was young and in plainclothes, so I guessed she was a sergeant or something.

I watched her, waiting to see if she'd cheer up.

The woman had suddenly given me a novel idea, so I wrote the idea down before turning to my food, still watching her.

I nudged at my cucumber sticks before I started to arrange them into straight lines.

I arranged my food alphabetically and ate my chilli and olives. I looked up and realised I'd been there too long. I swore and left.

I went and caught up on my work. I saw the pregnant woman and Himari giggling and arranging a shopping trip before a briefing.

I wanted to snoop, but only got a look at everyone working it—Pasha, Morimine, Himari, etc.

My eyes were drawn to a particular Sergeant in the corner.

He was gorgeous, with floppy dark hair and bright eyes. He was about the same age as the pregnant woman—mid-twenties, I’d say.

He looked bored, watching everything with glazed eyes.

As I put a file on Himari’s desk, my eyes met with his. He stared at me an uncomfortably long time, making me blush.

I scampered off, looking at the evidence board to ‘ _check in_ ’ on Tsukiyama.

Nothing.

I sighed and went back to work. I wondered who that attractive Sergeant was, but it wasn’t like I was going to ask about him.

I walked home not long after. I felt like I was being followed.

I frequently checked behind me. Saw nothing.

I heard footsteps behind me. I felt breath on my neck. I was sure a hand would wrap around my neck.

I thought I saw a grey, clawed hand grasp at my foot.

_The Wendigo!_

I yelped and ran away from it.

It was following me, I swore.

I raced to the flat, slamming the door. Jack wasn't back, thank God.

I was too scared to look at the window. I shuddered and instinctively took a swig from a bottle of Baileys, despite the calories.

I drank until I couldn’t. Then I calmed and plucked up the courage to look outside.

It wasn’t a Shadow Man or a Wendigo—well, it might’ve been considered a Wendigo, but more about that later.

It was Shuu Tsukiyama.

_Typical._

I shuddered, thinking of what to do. He was there, with two other people. He hid in the shadows but I knew he was there.

There was also a dark shape in the bushes, I thought it was an animal.

I swigged again and again, and so on.

_What do I do? What do I do?_

I closed my eyes and breathed to try and calm myself.

As I breathed and drank, I started to feel different. Giggly. Bubbly.

I giggled.

I felt horny.

I swapped Baileys for vodka. I gulped it down greedily.

I knew what I'd do.

I knew exactly what I wanted to do.

I wanted to dance.

I went to my bedroom, to my pole. The curtains were wide open but I'd stopped caring.

I started to dance. I put on Interpol, my favourite band.

I stripped when I felt like it. When I got to _Evil_ and If _You Really Love Nothing_ , I was sweaty and hornier than ever.

I acted like I had the audience. Like it was the dance of my life.

It was, in a way.

I almost wanted Shuu Tsukiyama to break into my apartment and kill me. Only I wanted him to fuck me first.

I wanted it rough and painful. I desired it.

I danced with the aim of seduction and enjoyment.

For if I was to die, at least I’d go out dancing.


	10. Chapter 10

** 10 **

Job interviews are always nerve-racking.

I’ve never enjoyed them, I’ve never met anyone who enjoys them.

The worst are dancing jobs. You’re poked, prodded and assessed.

It’s mentally exhausting, but it can be worth it.

I was nervous about it obviously, but I knew from my previous interview where I could go wrong.

I made sure I'd cleaned myself up good and proper.

I'd showered, shaved and made myself look as sexy as possible. The only thing I couldn't do was makeup, which had previously been taken care of by a colleague.

I had to work on that. I don’t like makeup at all, but learning a minimal look for dancing would only help me.

I wore the tightest dress that I owned. It was a kid's dress, but for some reason it was sexy. No wonder there are so many pedos around.

I made sure I was as visually appealing as possible, then I headed to Shinjuku.

I can't remember what it was called, but it looked like every other strip club in Tokyo.

The club was empty aside from the other girls. I was the only foreigner, and I felt threatened.

I sized the other girls up. I was better than most of them, but my legs failed me.

Two more girls came in, and soon after, a man and a woman. We were each asked a few questions.

I spoke to the woman, who I liked immediately. She was thin and wore nice clothes.

She asked me some questions before sending me away whilst she spoke with other girls. A few minutes later, we were told to strip to underwear and were called up to the pole one by one.

I felt like everyone was looking at me and my body. Talking about how large and horrible I was.

They were all laughing at me.

When it got to my turn, I tried to swallow my nervousness and did my dance.

I was as sexy as I'd ever been. I did my most extreme routine and perfected it.

They seemed impressed, then asked to see my breasts. I removed my bra and did the routine again, putting extra emphasis on my breasts.

When my turn was over, I went with the other girls to wait. Afterwards, many girls were turned away until there was five of us and we were asked to do it again.

We each got to do private dances and had to do different acts that we'd normally do in a working environment.

We were told to get dressed, as the club was starting to open up for the night. I spoke to the barman and he seemed nice.

He gave me a free vodka shot and everything. He said I looked like I needed it.

Then I was called in on my own. I saw the man this time. He would give me the news.

He’d pursed his lips, then told me.

I wanted to cry.

_Where did I go wrong? What did I do wrong?_

"Oh." I didn't cry. "Well...thank you for the opportunity...I’m sorry. Can I ask what I did wrong?"

He nodded. "Loved your dancing. Really. It was one of the best we've seen."

"Mhm."

"But when a lot of our customers expect a foreigner, they might expect one with bigger tits, you know?"

"Mhm."

"And speaking of your tits, what happened to them?"

"Oh. I was born with inverted nipples. I've never had that much trouble with them. Not enough to have surgery...Oh...Or were you talking about the piercings?"

"No, I’ve seen plenty of piercings before. What about the scars on your stomach?"

"I'm getting them covered with a tattoo."

"Ah. The tattoos. They're not something we endorse either."

"OK."

"And your makeup isn’t... _good_."

"Fair enough."

"But if you sort all of those things out; you're welcome to come back and you'll have a job for certain."

"Ok. Uhm. Thank you for the opportunity." I turned on my heel and stumbled into the now busy club.

I was ashamed of myself.

_It's because I'm not good enough. Why am I not good enough? Why?_

_Why is my body like this?_

_Why me?_

_It's my fault. I need to be better. Stricter._

_I’m too soft on myself. It’s ridiculous._

_I must improve. I must be better._

I shot the dancer onstage a look of pure envy and went to my new-barman-friend. "Double vodka, please," I said.

He looked at me and nodded, getting my drink in seconds. I downed it. "Another, please."

"Thirsty, are we?" Asked a woman across the bar.

I looked over and saw a beautiful woman staring at me. She had very distinct, catlike eyes; they looked a bit familiar, but I couldn't recall if I'd ever seen them before.

_Maybe on the street? I'm sure I'd remember._

There was something about her look that captivated me. Her eyes, her hair; all of it.

I did look at her body next. I compared, but she was wearing a thick, black jacket, so I couldn't be sure.

I nodded. "Yes," I said, blushing and not meeting her eyes.

"You look like you've had a day of it." She said. Her voice was smooth and crisp. It was refreshing.

"Mhm," I said, unable to look at her.

I think she smiled at me more, before moving next to me. She looked to the barman. "One for me too." She purred.

She smelt nice. Like roses.

She sat and looked at me. "So, what might a beautiful darling like you be doing here?"

I blushed harder.

_Christ. I'm actually embarrassed. She's gorgeous and she's talking to me like that._

_Doesn't she see what I look like? Why would a woman like that want to talk to me?_

_I'd say she was blind, but I doubt it._

"Oh, I'm uh, just..." I coughed. "S-Sorry. But, yeah, I'm just here 'cos, um, 'cos I...Uh."

She accepted her drink and handed me mine, which I downed in sync with her. "You look like you could do with another."

"Uh, yeah. Um, could I—"

"Two more, please, and put them all on my tab." She winked at me.

"Oh, no, uh, that's s-s-so kind—"

"Please. It's nothing. Like I could let a beautiful little nymph like you pay."

_It's getting a bit creepy now...Kinda into it._

I laughed awkwardly. "Uh, thanks."

"No problem. Do you have a name?"

"Uh, yeah."

She waited and there was a silence. She laughed. "Well? What is it?"

"Oh! Aha...I'm, uh, Charlotte. Charlotte

F-F-Fisher..."

"Nice name."

"Uh, I guess? Uh. What about you?"

She accepted the drinks and looked away at someone who'd just walked in.

I looked up too.

I gawked.

It was Shuu Tsukiyama. _Here_. At a strip club.

For a moment I was shocked, but we used to get rich men in our slummy strip club all the time. It wasn't uncommon and most of the time they came back.

Most of the men I saw in Soho were pretty well off...Then again, I sucked off a lot of chavs too.

I mean, you wouldn’t believe the amount of lonely rich men that hire escorts, and dissatisfied husbands are everywhere and easy to haggle with.

The woman looked at Shuu Tsukiyama for a long while.

"Do you, uh, know him?" I asked.

She looked back to me with a smile. "No. Not personally. You don't?"

"Kinda. I guess...I've uh, seen him."

"I wonder what he's doing at a place like this."

Shuu Tsukiyama looked at me and seemed to get a bit flustered by my presence. I smiled at him politely and nodded.

I made a mental note to get going soon...like, right then.

"So, uh, do you live, uh, near the area?" I asked.

She looked deep into my eyes. I looked away. "Not really. Where do you live? Near here?"

"Nerima."

"That's a lovely area. Not many ghouls either."

"Uh, no." I finished my shot. "Uh, I have to get up, uh, early tomorrow. I should not drink, um, that much. Uh...Would you like to, uh—"

"Yes. Absolutely." She got up and we went outside. I couldn't see Shuu Tsukiyama, but I got the feeling he was watching me.

Outside, it felt good to feel the cold air on my cheeks. It'd been so hot in there.

She took off her jacket and breathed in the night air. She had a ballerina's figure, I was overcome by envy.

"It's nice out here." She breathed.

"Mmm..." I looked at her. "You're beautiful," I said.

_Fuck. Fuck. Fuck._

_Why did I say that? Idiot. Fucking idiot._

She grinned. "So are you."

I didn't realise how close we were. I don't know what came over me.

I kissed her.

I don't know why, I just did. I had to.

She kissed me back and placed her hands on my shoulders. I was a lot broader and a bit taller than her. We seemed to fit nicely together.

It didn't last that long.

She tasted like vodka and a gin and tonic. I probably tasted like vomit—lovely.

No wonder she pulled away so soon.

She pulled away. She looked a bit flustered, which confused me a tad.

_She was flirting with me, wasn’t she? Didn't she want this?_

"Are you...OK?" I asked.

_I hope I didn't upset her. Or maybe she's suddenly realised how disgusting I am._

"Yes." She whispered. "I just...I have to go." She said. "Sorry."

I blinked, then nodded. She smiled at me before turning and walking off at a brisk pace.

_Oh, there goes my hookup for the night._

_I hope I didn't upset her, that wasn't my intention at all. I just wanted a hookup._

I went and sat at the bus stop. I hung my legs out and started to cry silently about my lost hope of a job.

" _Bonsoir, Mademoiselle_." Shuu Tsukiyama came out of the club and approached me. "Gosh. Crying at a bus stop is a habit of yours, isn’t it?”

“Yeah...”

“Whatever's the matter with you this time? No broken nose, I see.”

"No...just a shit day," I said.

"Can I sit down?"

"I guess...I mean, you will just do what you want anyway."

He nodded and sat in silence for a little while. "Are you alright?" He asked, a little awkwardly.

"I'm fine. I'm fine. I will be fine. Thank you."

"Okay then... _Alors_ , I actually needed to ask—"

"Are you following me? Only you were at the gym the other day and now you're here, and you were outside my house the other night." I didn't mean to interrupt but I did. "Sorry," I whispered.

"What? I wasn't following you—you just _happened_ to be here."

_That seems true._

"Why were you watching me? I mean, I know...Oh, whatever. Forget I asked. I don't even know what I'm saying. I'm drunk and tired and a mess. Just ignore everything I say."

He blinked, seeming confused. "Alright then..."

There was an awkward silence.

I huffed, I was freezing cold even though it was the middle of summer.

"I needed to ask you something," Tsukiyama said, suddenly.

"Oh? Ok." I said.

"Oui. The other day. Your advice, on weightlifting. I found it very helpful."

"Well...I'm glad I could do something right for once."

_It won't last_.

" _Sincèrement_ , I was about to give up on all this weightlifting, but now I see I've been doing it all wrong."

"Yes, you have."

"So, I fired that charlatan of a trainer."

"Good for you."

"But that doesn't really help me, and I imagine your part-time job doesn't pay very well, and you are a qualified personal trainer.”

" _Oui_ —Sorry. Yes. Why? Are you asking me to train you?"

"Yes. I am."

“Seriously?"

"It'd be beneficial to both of us, don't you think?"

"Well. More money is always better."

"I didn't just mean money."

"I know, but I was thinking more about money."

"Well...Well, that's fine. What do you think?"

I paused. "It can take a long time to train someone."

"That's good, isn't it? For you? Because I've got an awful lot of time."

"I know that. More than me?"

"Who knows? Tomorrow I might be brutally murdered by a pack of rabid hamsters."

_If only._

_Also, that's a bit random, isn't it? And this is from the girl who once got turned on because a blade of grass once 'sized me up'._

"Well, that is very true. You never have a 100% chance of surviving to the next morning."

"Exactly! Oh, what a wonderful mantra. I live my life by those words. We must live each day as if it's our last."

"Good for you."

"That's my philosophy for life, I think. Do you have a philosophy for life, as a philosopher?"

"I'm not a philosopher, I just study philosophy."

"You must have an interesting view at least. What's your life philosophy?"

I sighed. "I’m a nihilist. Life is pointless and we are all irrelevant."

"Is that it?"

"Yes."

"I expected something more intricate."

"The universe is endless, this planet is pointless, this solar system is pointless. The entire advancement of the earth was just a stream of coincidences that created life. There’s no why, no reason, no purpose. To put it simply; it’s all nothing. Nothing ever has or will exist. So, my ‘ _mantra for life_ ’ is that nothing matters in the end, so just do whatever the fuck you want, because in the end; who cares?”

"Is that why you're starving yourself so you can be thinner?"

"I'm doing that because I want to, not for anyone else, and it’s not like that decision will every life form in the universe.”

“No...I guess not.” He sighed. “Why leave England and come to Japan? Forgive me, I’m just curious. Your studies were fine, there was no big controversy that meant you had to leave. So, why leave?”

“I want to find my home, I guess. I never felt at home in the UK. I thought I'd move around. I speak a lot of languages, I like learning about new places, so why not?"

"Well, good for you."

"Shame it's going to end so early."

"You could always flee the country."

"Well, I do want to go to Russia...Greece, China, the Amazon, maybe I'll cut Japan short. Who knows?"

"Then again, I'm good at finding people and I want you as my trainer. So it'd be pointless."

"Are you serious about the training?"

" _Oui. Bien sûr_. Do you accept?"

I paused. "Do you I get a choice?"

"Well...There's always Russia."

I scoffed. "There is...only I do like money, and how much are you offering?"

A lot. Too much.

"Wowsers. That's way too much." I said.

"That's a lot less than what I paid my last trainer."

"Your last trainer was shit."

"We've established that."

"I feel a bit bad taking this much...Tell you what, I can do a training plan for you, then we can work out a cost. Just text me when you train and I will organise something. Oh, and I can only do training. I can't do your nutrition, because of...you know. I do not know how it all works for you."

"I've got that covered."

"You know how to gain muscle and lose fat?"

"I do...?"

"It's really simple. To gain any kind of weight—muscle or fat—you eat more, to lose whatever, you eat less. It's all about energy, I can go over that another time. What was your goal?”

“Oh, neither. I just want to build strength.”

“Perfect! Yes. I can train you."

"Great. When can you start?"

"When do you want me?"

_Don’t you want me, baby? Don’t you want me...OHHHHH._

_Sorry._

"I suppose you need time to plan?"

"I could do with a few bits of information first. Height, weight, body fat—that kind of thing. I can do that whenever."

"I want it done _très rapidement_ , so how about tomorrow? I'm free all day."

"Uh, yeah. I can do that. I'm free in the evening."

"Ah! _Parfait_!"

We arranged it then and there and I got some tidbits of information there too.

"Can I ask," He asked after we'd finished. "What bus are you waiting for?"

"Uhm..." I thought. "One of them."

"You've missed the last one by three hours."

"I'll be walking then."

"I have to walk too. We can walk together."

"It's a bit far. Am I closer?"

"Nerima, so _oui_ , yes. Shall we? I don't like it here."

"I love it."

"You would. Come along, you don't want to be in the city much later, trust me."

We walked and there was a silence. Eventually, Tsukiyama spoke up.

"Who is she?" Tsukiyama asked, suddenly. "The woman you were kissing."

"Sorry?"

"That woman you kissed. Is she your girlfriend?"

"Girlfriend? Oh, uh—No. No, no. No. Uh...no."

He sighed. "I don't care about your sex life, Miss Fisher, I'm interested in her. Whoever else you're interested in is of no interest to me."

"I'm not gay...I just...Like women too... _a lot_.”

"I didn't ask that."

"I have never seen her before. I met her about ten minutes before you walked in."

"You kissed her."

"Yes. I intended to go further. What is it to you?"

"You didn't get her name, did you?"

"No."

He looked at me in such a judgemental manner. It was like the look my Dad constantly gave me at home.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. Why do you care so much? Do you know her?"

"That's what I'm trying to find out from you."

"Why? What'd she do to you?"

"She..." He paused and trailed off. "It doesn't matter."

"What did she do?" I paused and lowered my voice. "Is she...Is she like _you_?"

"No."

"Oh...So were you going to... _you know_?"

"No." He sighed. "She was following me, earlier. So, I decided to follow her."

"What?"

"She followed me, so I followed her. That's why I'm here, not for some... _cheap_ entertainment."

"It's not cheap. It’s art." I said.

"Anyway..."

"Why was she following you?"

"I don't know. Perhaps..."

"Do you think she works for those...you know, _Pigeon_ people?"

He looked at me. "The CCG?"

"I forget what they are called."

"Well, there's only _one_ person that'd report me to them. You know her very well."

"...Who? I do not really know anyone here."

"Oh for— _You_."

"What? Oh. Right! Sorry. Mr Tsukiyama, I did _not_ set that woman on you. I swear."

"I know that. If you had, you wouldn't be here right now."

I gulped. "Maybe someone else knows? Why would anyone else want to follow you?"

"Sometimes journalists get nosey, only they normally email me before they stand outside my school for the entire day."

"The entire day? How did you keep an eye on her?"

"I could smell her."

"What did she do when you saw her?"

"I don't think she knew."

"Who could she be? Potentially."

"I don't know."

"You do not happen to have an angry ex, right?"

"Not a... _human..._ one, no."

"Why did she stop following you?"

"I went home and after a while she left and I followed her here. Why are you asking me all these questions?"

"Because I'm a police officer and someone was following you."

"You're not a real police officer."

"I'm qualified and I work in a station. I might be able to help you...Without you having to worry about your dirty little secret."

He paused. "Fine. You'll do."

"Thank you. Did she come straight here? Where did she go after she left you?"

"Here. She got in when it opened..."

"Huh." I paused, thinking.

Tsukiyama seemed to have something on the tip of his tongue, opening and closing his mouth to speak.

"What?" I asked. "What have you left out?"

"I—You mentioned the other night."

"When you were watching me? With your friends?"

"Yes."

"What?"

"It's just...Fine. When I was there, I could smell her there."

"So, she followed you when you were following me?"

"She was already there. At your apartment."

"And she turned up here. Where I had a job interview, and then..."

I let my alcohol-filled brain catch up.

"So...You’re saying...She's following you and she's following _me_?”


	11. Chapter 11

**11**

"Why would anyone want to follow me? Aside from you, I mean,”

Once again, Shuu Tsukiyama was at my flat, drinking coffee.

I couldn't let him just leave after dropping that bombshell, and I didn't want to talk outside in the cold.

"I'm neither interesting nor pretty enough to have some kind of...well, some kind of _stalker_ , I guess," I continued.

"No, your studies are certainly interesting, but that's hardly a reason to follow someone, is it?" Tsukiyama pursed his lips.

"Are you sure she was following me?"

"I'm certain of it. She was in the bushes, I assume,”

I gasped. "I saw a shape in the bushes that night. I thought it was an animal or something,”

"I didn't smell any wild animals,”

"Maybe she is just following you? She knew where you'd go and got there first? Or she knew you were following her so went somewhere you would not go?"

"And you just happened to be there?"

"How could she know about my job interview? I did not tell anyone,”

" _Vrai_...Then why the two of us? It's not like we have much in common,”

I paused. "Well...We both use the same gym, the same library, the same university, really,”

"Our studies aren't that similar."

"Classical English literature? Advanced French? History? Biology?”

"That's hardly a reason to stalk someone,”

"Another suspect—a professor—she teaches classical lit at the university,”

"Why would the university be a cause for concern?"

"I do not know, maybe your father owning it? I imagine your family has a few enemies,”

"Competition, obviously, but stalking, no. Not even the Takamaras would stoop that low. Besides, it not like you own a business empire, is it?"

"No, I make cakes and fudge sometimes, but that's it,”

"Exactly...What about the homicide case? That's another link between us,”

"I hardly know anything about it,”

"You questioned me,”

"Only because my partner was. Anyway, you and I have no connection to the victims, and the killer has no reason to target me...Unless I'm the next victim...Shit...Oh, oh fuck. Uhm...”

" _Calme toi_. Why aren't you investigating this case?"

"Uh...Because I'm only part-time. Most of my job is to do paperwork and make coffees,”

"What about your partner?"

"What about him?"

"You said he was working it. Use him as an excuse,”

"I treat him like shit. He probably hates me,”

"Then be nicer. Get him to like you—You've got wiles, haven't you?"

"I mean, I hope so. I'd be a pretty shit prostitute otherwise,”

"Exactly,”

"But...That could—I could cost him his job for that...I think,”

"Well, that's not my problem. Just find a way in,”

"What good will that do exactly?"

"You might find out more about the killer. Maybe a reason to go after you,”

"If she is stalking me to kill me, then it's too late for me."

_Why does everyone want to kill me? I understand I'm a horrible fucker, but this is getting a bit weird now._

"Then ask for protection."

"Everyone at work hates me. They probably want me to die."

"Don't be ridiculous. If everyone hated you that much, you'd be dead already."

"Besides, this is a huge leap anyway. She might not have anything to do with the homicide."

"I hardly doubt she's stalking us over English literature."

"That does not mean she is automatically a murderer."

"Do you have another suggestion?"

"...No."

"Right."

"But that—"

"If you don't have a better suggestion, then you'll have to accept mine."

I said nothing.

" _Alors, écoute-moi, va_?"

I paused. " _Mais_ —"

"I need you to find out more about that case—for both our sakes."

"...You mean for your sake."

"Well, mainly, yes."

I nodded. "Good to know."

"I can't have my name branded with this. I'm sure you know what journalists are like,"

"I guess..." I paused. "But, I don't know if I'm comfortable with this...It might just all be a coincidence...I don't want to snoop ov—"

"If you don't want to..." He smiled. "Then that's fine...The thing is; I didn't realise your involvement with the police was so insignificant, and I'm sure there are plenty of other trainers I can hire from abroad...So, it doesn't affect me in the slightest if you don't like it."

I looked away.

He smiled wider. " _Pardon_ , I need to use the restroom." Then left.

I inhaled deeply, considering my options. I couldn't leave Trev and my other animals just yet.

Maybe he was right, but I doubted it. If I wanted to look after my animals, I had to do it.

I had to comply, for their sake.

I nodded to myself and started to make a vegetable soup.

He reappeared soon, watching me for a few minutes. "What are you doing?" He asked.

"Cooking,"

"What?"

"Soup. I'll give it to everyone tomorrow. If I give them food, maybe they'll let me ask questions."

"Ah, good decision. Will that work?"

"Yes. People are ridiculous. You give them homemade food and the fat fucks go nuts for it. It's shameful, really,"

"Right...Can I help?"

"What?"

"I like cooking, may I help?"

"...But you're...You—"

"It's not like you eat regularly, is it?"

"No...I guess not. I guess you can help. Just wash your hands, please,"

He did, and I had him cutting onions for me because I had a cut on my hand and I did not want onion-juice getting into it.

He was good in the kitchen, to be fair, and I think we worked quite well together.

I've always liked cooking and baking especially. Which seems weird, considering my history of disordered eating, but it's actually common in those with EDs.

I thought about food all the time, mostly about what was wrong and 'ew, why would you eat that?', but cooking and baking made me feel relaxed.

I like watching A turn to B, following objectives to get to a conclusion. I liked how happy my creations made people, even if I was secretly counting the calories they were eating.

And I've got quite a knack for it, if I do say so myself.

As we prepared the soup, I wondered if Shuu Tsukiyama would ask me to do anything else for him. If he'd use me more and more until he ruined me.

I spoke up without thinking. "I will not break the law for you,"

"Sorry?"

"Don't ask me to break the law for you..."

He looked a little confused. "Don't tell me what to do, _Mademoiselle_ ,"

"I'm not. I'm telling you what I'm not going to do for you,"

He tutted. "Isn't prostitution illegal?"

"Not if it's oral, anal or any other non-coital intercourse,"

"You've researched it?"

"Of course, I would never work without knowing the legal, uh...uh...punish—r-re-repercussions,"

"Isn't it different for a police officer?"

"I'm not a police officer. I'm part-time,"

He nodded. "Where does this go next?"

"Give it here," I blended the onions and peppers into a puree and mixed it in with the broth. I added some spices and some honey and let it do its thing in the pot.

"What else are you making?" Tsukiyama asked as I got some bread dough of the fridge.

"Oh, I'm just putting this bread in the oven. It should go nice with the spices in the soup...I hope,"

"Haven't you tried it?"

"No, I don't eat bread,"

He nodded and looked away. "Where's your roommate?"

"I don't know,"

He walked off again. I watched him intently as he surveyed my flat. "What's this?" He asked.

"That's—"

"Oh, good God! The smell— _c'est dégoûtant_!"

"Those are my breeding cockroaches,"

"You keep pests in your home? Oh! That doesn't surprise me in the slightest,"

I blushed. "They are _not_ pests. They are animals just like you and me,"

"We're not the same,"

"No, but we are equal, as are those cockroaches,"

"Are you calling me vermin?"

"No, I'm saying that you are no better than them, and neither am I,"

"What? No wonder you're in counselling,"

"It's a belief. I told you; speciesism,"

"Yes, to treat one species as morally higher than another,"

"Exactly,"

He sighed and looked up. "Well then, explain this. You see animals as equals, yet you dissect and display them in your home. That's rather hypocritical,"

"No, I don't think so. If they are already dead and were killed humanely. I see no problem with dissection for science, and I am a scientist. Dissection is a crucial part of biology and chemistry, especially with insects. Displaying them is no different from displaying a photo. I didn't hunt them. They died naturally. If I had human organs I'd do exactly the same,"

"Why not eat them too then?"

"Because I do not like meat, and animals are slaughtered horribly. I also do not consume dairy, because that's awfully cruel. I also think it's wrong to consume one animal and not another,"

"So if you ate, say...a pig? You'd have to also eat dog and cat, yes?"

"Mhm,"

"How... _interesting_ ," He sighed.

I waited, unsure of what to do. I watched him turn and look out the window, watching.

"What? Is there something there?" I asked.

"I can't see anyone. I can't smell her either,"

"She could easily change her scent. She could've doused herself in deodorant,"

"Perhaps," He paused. "I think I'll be going now,"

"OK—"

"I'll find you in a few days, make sure you have something for me,"

"But what if—"

" _Bonne nuit, Mademoiselle Fisher, bonne nuit_!"

And then he was gone.

I was exhausted after his visit, and I desperately needed sleep. Only I was scared and I had to finish making the soup and bread.

I think I might've passed out in the kitchen for ten minutes.

Sometimes it's hard to remember.


	12. Chapter 12

**12**

"Good morning! Ooh, what's all that?"

Lieutenant Lydia Kristofdottir pounced on me when I got into work.

"Oh, morning...I just..." I blushed. "This is just some soup and bread, I made it last night,"

"It smells amazing! Who's it for?"

"Oh...Well, I figured that everyone was working hard on the homicide case...So I thought I would make some nice healthy food to keep everyone's spirits up,"

_Yeah, 'cause you're just so kind, aren't you_?

I didn't know if she'd buy into it.

"Aw, that's so sweet of you," She said.

_Phew._

_Almost gave it away with your terrible acting skills._

"Here, I'll take it to the fridge for you," She said, taking the pot of soup. "Go to my office after your locker, I need some paperwork doing if that's OK,"

I nodded and went to do my work.

I hadn't expected my food-trick to work off the bat. I had to do it a bit before I could just waltz in and deliver food whilst sneaking looks at the evidence boards.

Working with Pasha and Himari might've helped. Only Pasha seemed more interested in my personal life than the case and Himari wouldn't let anyone get a look in.

I couldn't exactly blame her. That was her job.

However, Lydia Kristofdottir was a bit of a catch.

She seemed motherly and kind, and I knew how to act vulnerable. I could take advantage of her kindness and get a look in.

I could've used my ' _wiles_ ' on Pasha or even Morimine or Ryõma, maybe even that attractive Sergeant I'd seen, but like hell that'd work without getting me into trouble.

I could've just gone for it and snuck in and stole, but that definitely would've got me into trouble.

I decided that being friendly with Lieutenant Kristofdottir would be the best option.

Only, I hadn't considered two other routes that would walk right into me.

The first of which came later that day.

After I'd done all that Lydia (and eventually Himari) had asked of me, I went to head to the gym.

When I finished squatting, I realised I was being watched. I looked up at the person watching me.

It was the attractive Sergeant I'd seen—who worked the homicide case. I couldn't tell what he'd been doing, treadmill, I think, but now he was looking at me as if ready to talk to me.

He blushed when meeting my eye, and approached.

"Hi," He said.

"Uh, hi,"

"I wasn't perving on you, I swear, I would never—"

"Uh, OK..."

What the fuck?

"Sorry," He said. I hadn't expected someone so attractive to be so awkward. "I just...You made soup today for us, right?"

"Yes,"

"Well, thank you...It was really good,"

"I'm glad you, uh, liked it,"

"It's okay. I needed to talk to you about something,"

"Me?"

"Yes. Can you talk after this?"

"Uh, sure...Where should I meet you?"

Feeling utterly confused, I agreed to meet him at the café after my workout. I was nervous that he'd tell me off or something.

I found him by the window, not ordering anything because calories. I couldn't help but notice that he had a skinny latte.

"Have I done something wrong?" I asked, timidly.

"Uh, no...I don't think so," He said. "Oh! Sorry! I'm Sergeant Kaito Yamamoto, by the way,"

"Charlotte Fisher,"

He nodded. "I needed to ask about the homicide scene,"

"Oh,"

"I wasn't there, uh, and I wanted to ask about the sticker you found,"

I nodded.

"It could be really important, but it could also be..."

"Unimportant?"

"Yeah. I guess. Where exactly did you find it?"

"It was on a light socket—the very corner,"

"So, it couldn't have been an accident?"

"Not at all,"

"I didn't think so..."

I wondered why anyone could think it was an accident. Stickers don't just fall and stick perfectly, with no curls or anything.

"Do you think it's a swan or a goose? Only, there's been a bit of controversy about that,"

"A swan, definitely, geese don't look like that,"

He sighed.

"Is, uh, something wrong?" I asked.

"No, it's just...It doesn't matter,"

"Oh...I'm sorry,"

"It's fine...Just...Actually, could you look at it again?"

"Sure,"

I looked at a photograph on his phone.

When I looked harder, I realised what he was getting at.

It was an ambiguous image.

It was a swan, yes, but it was also a woman.

"It's a woman...A reversible image...That's...That's...How did I miss that?"

To be fair to me, and everyone else that didn't notice, it wasn't quite like the rabbit-duck image.

The woman's arms were outstretched and almost feathered, her fingers barely visible. Her legs were painted orange and tucked like swan feet. Her hair was short and as white as her skin, and her makeup was like a swan.

Everything about her was swanlike, and everything about the swan was womanly.

You couldn't have noticed without looking for it.

Kaito Yamamoto nodded, smiling. "It's not just me...That's good,"

"That is awesome...How did no one else notice?"

"Because they haven't looked at the sticker in detail yet. It's in forensics. I'm the only one who got a picture of it,"

"So, you would have found out anyway?"

"Yeah, but it could take weeks for forensics to get back. This is quicker,"

"Of course, sorry,"

"It's fine. I thought you might've gotten a good look at it. Thanks for helping,"

"I did not do anything,"

He said nothing, I took that as a hint. He seemed unaware of what to say next, just like me.

"Uh," I started. "That might mean something more...It not just being a swan,"

"Yes, obviously," He blinked.

_I'm such an idiot._

"Did you have a suggestion?" He asked.

"It could be a mimic reference...A reference maybe to the ballet? Uhm...Swans are the Queen's animals...Uhm..."

"The ballet?"

" _Swan Lake_ ,"

"I've never seen it,"

"Oh, it's wonderful. I saw it in London. It could be a reference, maybe?"

"I hadn't thought about that. Thank you for suggesting it,"

I paused. "I should go...It was nice to meet you,"

"And you," He stood to leave as well.

As I left, I turned to ask a final question.

"The sticker," I said. "If it was not an accident...and was put there on purpose, then—"

He nodded. "Then the killer is likely to kill again, yes,"

"And it could be a—"

"A serial killer? Yes, I think so,"

I said nothing.

"We just have to stop them. Before it's too late,"

I nodded. "Of course, sir. Good luck to you,"

And I left.

After I went home for a bit, (Shuu Tsukiyama cancelled his appointment with me at the gym), I went to work in Shinjuku.

I first texted my online clients, sending pictures of my nipples showing through my dress and my thong half way up my butt.

I did send a few pictures of my bare breasts, sometimes with the piercings in, sometimes where I'd pulled on them to be red and raw, also a few pictures of my outer labia piercing.

I don't have piercings to be cool...Well...I didn't get earrings or nose rings for sexual pleasure, but the rest are for sexual enhancement.

I also have ingrown nipples, so they don't look, you know... _normal_. When I play with them or get cold they look normal, and my piercings make that a lot easier.

Also, my clients really liked them.

I saw loads of clients that night. I was doing amazingly well.

By the end of the night, I even had a regular.

I'd seen him twice before, each time our appointments lasting a bit longer. He paid me greatly that night, as I did more work on him than ever before.

At the end, he asked if I'd see him regularly. Obviously, I said yes, and gave him my burner number.

I headed home that night with a purse full of money and a stomach full of gin and tonic.

When I got home, I found my flat full of people playing loud music. Jack had decided to put on a party.

I was furious, and screamed at him in my bedroom. He was a dick about it, saying he was allowed a party. He wasn't, because I have a fear of loud noises.

I called out landlord right in front of him and complained, to which Jack went and kicked everyone out.

He locked himself in his room with his girlfriend after that, leaving me to spend three hours tidying up.

I was so exhausted that I fell asleep in the bathroom again.

In the morning, he kicked me out to have a bath, without an apology.

I had work that day, but waking up, I couldn't be arsed.

I was so tired, and all I wanted to do was curl up in bed and cry myself to sleep.

So I did just that.

I slept and cried for far too long, waking up at some point in the afternoon to go on my treadmill and do boxing, barre and yoga.

I didn't want to eat. I felt fat and I was too tired to eat.

I tried to do schoolwork, fell asleep at my desk.

I looked at my work in a huff.

_Why am I even trying? Who am I kidding? I'm too stupid to be an entomologist. I'm a joke to the profession. I should just stick to sex work, where I belong._

I repeatedly slammed my hands on my desk in frustration.

_I'll never even make it past my bachelor's, let alone my master's or PhD._

_No wonder dad's so disappointed in me. I'm nothing. I'll never be anything._

_All I'm good for is giving out blowjobs, even then I'm mediocre._

_I'm not a good writer, I'll never be a good writer. I draw and colour but I'm shit at that too. I can't do maths for shit. I'm not a good historian, or a philosopher, and I'll never be a good scientist._

_I'm not even good at working out, because I mean, look at me. I don't eat, I workout whenever I can, and I'm still the size of a fucking walrus._

I choked on my tears, spitting.

_Nice. I'm not even good at fucking crying._

The phone started ringing.

I screamed at it. "Shut up! Shut up! Be quiet!"

It was inside my head, bouncing off the walls and imprinting in my brain.

I screamed. I ran to it and frantically began to hit it and slam it on the wall until it shut up.

When it was broken, I started to cry.

"I...I didn't mean to do thaaaaaat..." I wailed, before letting out another scream.

I cried on the floor until I heard my mobile ringing—Pasha again.

I turned my phone off before I smashed that too.

_I'll probably quit that job. It's not like I offer anything to them. I can't even make coffees and organise paper right. I might as well just quit. They'll fire me soon anyway. They'll be pleased when I quit, I bet._

I stood in the kitchen, crying as I looked at the mess I'd caused. Jacqui started barking. I suddenly saw why Jack didn't like her.

I told her to shut up but she didn't. I locked her out on the balcony but all she did was bark, bark, bark.

I screamed at her. I didn't want to hurt her, but she wouldn't shut up and I needed quiet.

I get stressed when there's lots of noise. I can't help it.

I screamed and screamed, eventually running out of the house in my pyjamas.

I ran until it was dark, until god knows what hour. God knows where.

I didn't know where I was. When I came out of my hysteric state, I was too exhausted to even stand up.

I sat on the floor, holding my knees. I looked for signs.

Saitama.

How in the name of hell I managed to run/jog all the way there from Nerima is still beyond me.

I didn't know how to get back to Tokyo, and I knew I was starting to have another panic attack. I sat down, staring at the floor.

I'd started to get cold, and I huddled into my pyjamas. I didn't have shoes, only fluffy socks.

I couldn't move in case I got even colder. I remembered I had to see a few of my clients in Shinjuku, and I couldn't lose that job. It was the only thing I was semi-good at.

I tried to retrace my steps, but it was so cold and I didn't know where I was.

I walked and rested, trying to reheat. I was too exhausted to run.

I sat on a bench eventually. As I sat, huddled into a ball, a blue car pulled up beside me. I looked up at the open window.

It was a woman. A woman I'd seen before.

The woman I'd seen at the strip club. The woman I'd kissed. The woman Shuu Tsukiyama said was stalking me.

It was her.

I stared as she smiled. "Hello again," She said.

"...H-Hi," I croaked.

She looked around. "You lost?"

I paused, thinking about whether I should tell the truth. "No," I said.

She laughed. "Then why're you out here in your pyjamas?"

I shrugged.

"Do you want a ride home?"

_Yes, but I don't think I should trust you_.

I didn't say anything. She opened the passenger door.

"Come on. I don't bite, I swear,"

"I'll get a bus,"

"Do you have any money?"

"...What time is it?"

"Eight thirty,"

"I'll get a bus," I repeated.

She huffed. "Where are you trying to get too?"

"Tokyo,"

"I'll drop you off. Come on, get in,"

I didn't have a choice.

I could either walk around all night freezing and lost, or take my chances with her.

What was I meant to do?


	13. Chapter 13

** 13, **

** (Trigger Warning) **

"Where were you last night?"

"None of your business,"

"Did you break the phone?"

"I'll get it replaced later,"

"Are you—"

"I'll fix it. Though I could probably blame it on that stupid party you had,"

Jack paused as he ate his sugary cereal. "Some guy came looking for you yesterday, by the way,"

"Who?"

"Russian, I think. Really tall and like...buff,"

"Oh. OK,"

"Oh, bye then,"

I walked out without another word. After the entire day before, I was too ashamed to even talk.

Luckily, I wasn't murdered by a potential stalker, who just seemed like a genuinely nice person.

She dropped me in Shinjuku so I could see my clients. She even gave me a dress she had in the boot of her car, saying it was an old one of hers I could use.

It was a perfect dress.

Just my size, (2XS), so it was slim-fit, black, and it gave my breasts a lovely push. It covered my arms but barely covered my thighs.

That was a bit awkward. I didn't like my thigh cuts being out a bit. It was a bit uncomfortable. For once it felt like people weren't staring at me because of how fat or ugly I was, but because of the cuts on my thighs.

No one asked, thankfully.

And the woman made a nice comment about how my legs looked—how skinny and beautiful I was.

I wondered if Shuu Tsukiyama had lied about her stalking me just to blackmail me.

_Probably._

_I'm so stupid, I didn't even notice._

However, that morning I woke up feeling the same as the previous morning—tired, down and full of self-loathing.

Before going into work to face being shamed even more, I did things to myself in the bathroom. It made me feel better. Like it was proof of my self-hatred.

I deserved it.

I knew I was going into work to get fired. I just wanted it to be over and done with so I could go home.

When I got in, Himari approached. "Where were you?" She snapped.

"I was, uh, sick,"

_More like, being a lazy fuck._

"You didn't even call! Do you know how irresponsible that is? This is a police station, this isn't just like, a school...Only I doubt you'd even know what that's like,"

_Wait. How'd she know about—_

"Sorry?"

"This isn't a game, Fisher! There are criminals out there, and what do you do? You—"

"Stop it, Himari," Pasha walked in. He looked at me. "Morimine wants to see you,"

I nodded, moving past Himari. I didn't say anything to Pasha.

"Where were you?" He asked.

"Sick,"

"Why didn't you call? Answer your phone?"

"I broke my phone,"

"What?"

I told him again. He asked how and I lied, which I know is wrong.

"Where were you? I even came to see you," He continued.

"Getting medicine,"

"Your roommate said he didn't know where you were,"

"I hate my roommate,"

"Were you actually sick or not?" I blushed in response. "Then where were you?" He asked.

"I overslept," I said.

"And decided not to even bother? Your shift was in the afternoon,"

"I know. My roommate had a, uh, party. I spent the night cleaning up,"

"You should have called,"

"I broke my phone,"

"How?"

"It, uh...smashed."

"How?"

"I...I-uh..."

"You hit it?"

"No,"

"What happened to your hands?"

"What?"

"You were fighting with something,"

"...I was boxing,"

"Without gloves?"

I had to tell the truth.

"Why?" He asked patiently. We were now outside Morimine's office.

"It would not be quiet...I was trying to work—I got stressed...What does it matter anyway? I'm just going to get fired, so you can stop asking me questions. I know what's going to happen,"

He sighed, looking away. "You look like you have been hit by a bus, by the way," He said.

"Thanks. Thanks _so_ much," I spat.

He stared at me. I realised he was staring at my arms—freshly cut and deep. I hid them again, the blood seeping through my shirt.

"I knew it," He said, quietly.

"Really? Now you are going to mock me for that too?"

"Woah. I was not—"

"Why is everyone so obsessed with telling me all this stuff I already know? Listen. I know I'm stupid. They are stupid. Only a stupid person would do that...And I know everyone hates me. I know I'm about to get fired and I know that I'm a fat waste of space that only belongs in the ground. I know! I fucking know! So why, why...Why does everyone feel the need to point that out?"

Pasha stared at me, as did everyone, including Morimine, Lydia and even Kaito Yamamoto. I didn't care. I should've, but I didn't.

I didn't care about anything. I was about to lose my job, I'd fail university no matter how hard I tried or how high grades were, I'd never be skinny or pretty. I'd never be anything. I wasn't anything.

I just didn't care.

"I only meant—" Pasha started.

"I know what you meant," I snapped.

_He was going to mock you. Make fun of you. I'm sure they all do it—talk about you behind your back._

_I don't care anymore. I don't. I don't care about anything. I just want to go home. Fuck this job. Fuck me. Fuck everything._

"How could you possibly know?" He asked.

"Because it's the same thing every time," I said. I looked to Morimine, who looked at me with a terrible disdain.

I stopped, realising everything I'd just said.

If I hadn't been fired before, I was definitely fired now.

I was a coward, I admit, because suddenly I couldn't face him.

_Surely, I could just leave and never come back? I'd never have to go through even more embarrassment._

I turned and started walking away. Pasha followed me.

"Where are you going?" He asked.

"Home,"

"What?"

"I'm fired, I know. I don't want to face them. I'm going home. It was... _nice_ meeting you,"

"What's wrong with you?" He asked.

"Nothing," I said. "I'm going home now,"

"I do not think you are well enough to go home,"

"I'm fine. I just want to go home,"

"Your arms—"

"Don't you da—"

"They look dangerous, at least let me fix them before you leave,"

"No. No thanks,"

"I'm not going to—"

"I said no! Goodbye, Pasha,"

"Wait! You are not even going to try? You might still have your job!"

"I hate this fucking job anyway. I'm not good at it. I never even wanted it. I was so much happier in my old job,"

"What was your old job?"

"Oh, so you can talk about me behind my back even more? I don't think so,"

"Wait, what? I do not understand—"

"Fuck you. Fuck everyone in this place. Fuck this place. I'm done,"

I stormed off, knowing I'd never see Pasha or anyone from that place ever again.

I hated myself for saying what I said. I felt so stupid, and I wanted to apologise. Mainly to Pasha, I'd been such a dick to him.

I felt guilty, so when I got home I started drinking. I spent the rest of the day drinking, wallowing in self-hatred. The more I hated, the more I drank. The more I drank, the more I hated.

I did schoolwork, giving up on an essay about _American Psycho_ that wasn't due for three weeks.

_I have to be the one who sends theirs in first. It'll get the most attention and the most detailed marking. I've got other work to do, I need to do this. I need to do it, it needs to be perfect and I need to it NOW_!

Not wanting to destroy anything again, I went out for a run to cool my head. As I ran, I thought. Now, me thinking whilst in a hysterical state, whilst drunk, is not a good mix.

And I made a decision.

_Look at me, I'm pointless, useless. I'm thick as shit, I'm fat, I'm hideous. I'm a waste of space._

_An ugly sex worker...Whoever needed one of those?_

_It's not like anyone would care. My family don't even know I exist. Pasha hates me. Shuu Tsukiyama can find another trainer. Jack'll be overjoyed._

_The pets probably hate me too...Trev would be fine without me. Not everyone's a bad fish parent, I just think they are. As usual, I was wrong._

_So there's no point in me. I'm just wasting space, recourses._

_The planet's dying due to us anyway, it's selfish for me to keep living, isn't it?_

_Well...Living is selfish. It's the most selfish thing that ever was._

_That's the perfect word for me—selfish._

_A selfish, stupid, swollen slut._

_So. If there's only one good thing a selfish, stupid, swollen slut can do—it's die._

I felt ready—full of alcohol and nonsensical thoughts—I felt ready.

Going home, I made a plan.

When I got home, I wrote out where I wanted Trev to go, where she'd be better off.

My money would go to my parents, I knew, only for them to spend it on food or clothes. My belongings would be sold, with no special meaning to them. Most probably chucked into a charity shop or the tip.

_How fitting._

I locked myself in the bathroom, checking the time, estimating when it'd be. I filled the bath with hot water.

I wasn't going strip, because I didn't want anyone to have to see my body. Then I remembered that I'd probably be incinerated, so it'd be less work if I was already naked.

I did it in the bath. I took all of my remaining melatonin pills and picked up my blades. It took a while for me to find an artery, and it was awful. It was so painful that I almost chickened out.

I kept going, when done, I put my arms in the hot water, watching the blood slowly drool out.

In my head, I was reminded of Seneca's death, but how dare I compare my life to someone like that?

After a while, I realised nothing was happening. Panicking, I took the blade to my neck and thighs. I quickly felt dizzy, as blood will pour from the inner thighs much quicker.

_I'm so stupid. I should've started with the femoral._

I sighed, leaning deep into the bath.

At least, finally, it was here. I wouldn't fail this time.

As I started to submit to sleepiness couldn't help but feel euphoric.

Maybe it was the alcohol, the pain or the pills.

But it felt so peaceful.

Finally, I was going to die.


	14. Chapter 14

**14**

_No._

"Charlotte? Miss Fisher?"

_No. No. No._

"Can you hear me?"

_No. No._

"Could you open your eyes for me?"

I wailed.

"OK, come on, open your eyes,"

_I don't want to._

"Charlotte, come on,"

_This wasn't meant to happen_.

I opened my eyes, blinded immediately by bright lights. I wailed and let out a scream.

"Do you know where you are?"

_There's absolutely no way I'm in heaven. Not only because it doesn't exist, but because people like me don't go to heaven._

I sniffed. I began to cry, because I knew where I was.

"H-Hospital?" I croaked.

The nurse who'd been talking to me nodded. "Sit up for me, here you go," She gave me some water. I was parched and gulped it greedily.

She looked at me with a gentle smile. "Do you know why you're here?" I nodded, sniffling. "Could you tell me?"

I blushed. I was ashamed. Yet another failure.

_My body really does hate me. You don't look good even though I do all the right things, you get me into trouble, and you won't even let me die._

She sighed, telling me that the doctor would come to see me and asked if there was anyone she could call. I was quickly left alone, confused and upset.

I began to cry, praying none of this was real. But it was.

I was alive. Yet again, like a cockroach, I survived.

"Are you OK?" Asked a soft voice suddenly.

I looked up sharply. It came from the bed next to me.

I saw a face that was ever so slightly familiar. I recognised her more by her body size.

It was the pregnant Sergeant I'd seen in the staff one, the fat one who was working the homicide case. The one I'd felt sorry for when she'd looked so upset.

I was embarrassed at her having seen me. Who's attractive when they're crying? Definitely not me.

I wiped my eyes and nodded. "...I-I'm fine...Thank you,"

Talking hurt. Breathing hurt.

She smiled warmly. "Are you sure?"

I nodded. I looked at myself finally.

It was odd at first, because I suddenly looked down at my body and saw myself as I was.

_So skinny...So beautiful! Oh! How frail and sickly I look in this hospital gown. I look so skinny!_

I almost giggled with delight, but then I saw my arms. I suddenly felt the itchy padding on my neck and the incredibly tight thigh bandages.

_I must've had surgery. Shit. How long have I been here? I need to workout!_

I paused, starting to panic again.

"Hey," The pregnant woman called out again. "Do you want me to get someone? I know they're busy, but she kinda just left you here,"

"I'm fine," I said. "I just...I need to go home,"

"Might be a while. Have you had surgery?"

"I uh, think,"

"Me too. They said I'd be here overnight. Looking at you, I'd say the same,"

I let out a little cry.

She paused. "You work at the police station, don't you?" I nodded. "You're Himari's...uhm—"

"I don't, uh, work there anymore. I got fired,"

"Oh, I'm sorry. I'm Aika, Aika Takamara,"

"Takamara?" I was sure I'd heard that name before.

"Don't,"

"What?"

"I'm sure you've heard of my family," I shook my head. She sighed. "Some might say we're ' _Tokyo's Richest Lunatic Asylum_ '," She seemed upset. "Basically, everyone in my family's a bit... _Off_ ,"

"Why? I mean, uh, your family might be a bit uh, odd, but why have I heard of you?"

"Oh, sorry, I should've said. My grandfather was an incredibly successful author—film adaptions, manga—he had the lot. So he married my grandmother, whose father owned a pharmaceutical company. They didn't have another child, so it went to her, and so on,"

"Oh! Of course, ' _Takamara_ ', it's on, uh, pill packets,"

"Mhm,"

"What happened?"

She told me her life story. Which wasn’t what I’d asked, but it distracted me for a bit, but I soon circled back to my own worries. Luckily, the nurse returned quickly and explained everything.

I'd only cut into my arms and neck very deeply, but I'd missed any arteries by a long shot.

_I can't even kill myself right. For fuck's sake._

The issue was with my femorals—my thighs—my right femoral artery in particular.

On my left leg, I'd managed a clean cut, but the right was jagged and deep.

Luckily, I had an extremely low heart rate—dangerously low, because anorexia really is _fun_ —so I had the advantage of a slower flow.

Ew. I’m never saying that again.

But there was less of me, so less blood.

"You would've died in minutes," The nurse said.

"I know," I said. She hadn't needed to explain anything to me. She could've just told me what I'd done and I'd put the pieces together.

I'd had surgery, stitches on my arms and neck. I still feel the scar on my neck. I got tattoos over it.

"What happened?" I asked. "Who found me?"

"Uh...He's around here. He was covered in blood, bless him, I think he was a bit shellshocked,"

"Who?"

"I'll go find him,"

She left and returned with Jack. He stared at me sheepishly. The nurse left us.

He stared at me. "Are you OK?"

"I wanted to die,"

"But are—"

"Why didn't you let me die?"

"I couldn't...I could never just leave someone to—"

"I wanted to die!"

_You're being a dick. Say thank you._

"I...I—" He started. "I only wanted to help—"

I looked away in a huff. “You should have left me...” I mumbled.

"I'm sorry,"

I hesitated. "Thank you," I mumbled, not meaning it.

"Your girlfriend told me what to bring you—"

"I don't have a girlfriend," I hugged my knees.

"Uh...There was a woman with you when I got in. She told me what to do. She left quickly, said she was going to get her car...She said she was your girlfriend,"

"I don't have a girlfriend,"

"Oh..."

"What did she look like?"

"Uhm...Thin, green eyes...I think...I don't know what she was wearing,"

_That's her. How the fuck did she get in? Why was she getting in?_

"I'm sorry..." Jack said. "I feel sick again," He walked off, leaving me to sit in silence.

The nurse returned with the doctor. I asked when I'd go home and I was offered suicide watch, which I declined. I asked the most burning question on my mind.

"When can I work out?" I asked.

"A month, and I'd stay away from any heavy lifting, but it's not like you—"

"When can I lift heavy?"

"You really shouldn't. It's bad for women—"

"It's not. When?"

He paused. "If you must...Two months,"

I wailed. "Two months?! No. No. I cannot do that,"

"You have to—"

"But weightlifting, dancing. It's my... _life_...It's all I have. I cannot—"

"Well, I'm sorry, but those are the rules. You'll hurt yourself,"

_I don't care._

_Just agree and then do exercise at home. It's not like they'll know._

_But what if I paralyse myself and then I'll_ _never work out again? That'd be even worse!_

_Then we...Right. Got it._

_Yes! We'll do yoga, boxing, swimming—anything that doesn't involve my legs. I'll hopefully be able to maintain this weight for a week, then add some light weight._

_And you'll have to eat less. Bring it down to five hundred?_

_Five hundred? I don't know..._

_Then stay a fat fuck for the rest of your life. You need discipline to lose weight, fatty._

_...Right._

The doctor left me to wail and cry. Eventually, I was visited by my therapist—Tabara—who gave me several prescriptions for drugs that would supposedly ' _help me with my Aspergers_ ' as well.

I didn't take any of it, and to this day I stand by that decision. Those drugs would've only caused more problems, and they certainly wouldn't do anything to cure...you know, my brain structure.

I was just waiting to go home really. So I could see my goldfish and workout.

I looked in the bag Jack had brought. There was a bright pink card inside.

It read; ' _You looked beautiful in that dress, XOXO_ '.

I wanted to be sick.

There was also a stuffed elephant in the bag, one that wasn't my own.

I hid it. I didn't want to see any of it.

Other than that, it was like my belongings had been picked by myself.

One of these belongings was my coursework. I continued writing my essay and revised my project on the management of captive aquatic systems.

I was studying for the end of my bachelor's in entomology. I had to pass, and I had to pass with flying colours. Then I could go onto my master's, then my PhD.

As I revised, I heard some familiar voices talking to Aika Takamara from behind her curtain.

I learned from eavesdropping that Takamara had had a miscarriage. I genuinely felt bad for her; I could hear her crying and I thought about her sad little face.

I went back to my work, knowing no one would know I was there. Until half an hour later.

"Psst...Charlotte?" Said a voice. I looked up. I saw Pasha peeking through the curtains. "Can I come in?"

"Why?" I asked.

He didn't answer, he just came in. "Oh, no-no-no-no...What happened to you?"

I shrugged. "I...I just...I got run over—"

"Don't," He spoke quietly. "You did it to yourself—"

"Yes. Fine. I did,"

"Why?"

I said nothing.

“Because of work?"

"No. It does not matter,"

"It does. You tell me,"

"No. You go see Takamara, that's why you're here. Not me,”

"I did not know you were here," He paused. "I actually came to check on you last night. No one was there. What time did—What happened?"

"I really don't know what happened after..."

"After what?"

"I actually don't want to talk about it,"

"Of course, I'm so sorry,"

"It's fine," I turned back to my work.

He dawdled. "I got you this," He held out a stuffed bear.

"How kind," I smiled politely.

He stayed. "Can I keep you company? I will not say anything...I swear,"

"Sure," I sighed.

I ended up talking to him a lot. I cried in front of him, about my worries with exercise and my routine. I had a panic attack in front of him about my exams and losing my job.

"You have not lost your job," He said.

I didn't believe him, and I told him so. "No, no, seriously...You were all weird yesterday, and I figured maybe your...Sorry, the word in Japanese. Your, uh, head-health—"

"Mental?"

"That. Your me-mental health, was not so good. So I told Morimine and explained that you probably had a bad few days,"

"And? Did he tell you that I'm a useless waste of space that does not belong in a police station?"

"Hey! No, he said he'd give you one— _one_ —more chance,"

"I thought—Wait. What? Really?"

"Yeah,"

"OhmyGod...That's...I don't know how to thank you,"

"Thank you?"

"Спасибо хорошо, Паша,"

He smiled. "It's fine. Just—OK. Just work with me for a bit, and Lieutenant Kristofdottir. We will look after you...and make sure you are doing your job,"

"Thank you. Truly. I don't deserve this, after how I've treated you. How can I ever repay you?"

"Make more soup?" He laughed. "And you make a nice—"

I hugged him. I thanked him again. He shrugged. He left to get a drink. As he left, Jack came back.

"Uhm. I need to tell you something," He said. "So...We don't get on, and to be honest, I've been kind of a dick,"

"So have I. Sorry,"

"No, me having a party without you was wrong, especially when you don't have any fri—Sorry...But...I don't think I'm helping you, and maybe it'd be better if I moved out,"

"OK..."

"I can get cheaper accommodation at my uni. I found somewhere for Jacqui to go too. Don't worry, I made sure that she'll be OK,"

I smiled sadly. "I'm sorry,"

"Don't be. It'll be better," He paused. "I just need to know...I don't want to dump you with all my rent,"

"Oh, I can deal with it. I've got money," I felt awkward. "I'm sorry you had to...Take care of me, last night. I'm sorry you had to see that,"

He went pale. "It's fine...There was...So much of it. It wouldn't stop. That woman was telling me what to do, and the operators were too, but there was blood everywhere...And you were naked—Sorry. Whilst I was clogging it I might've—"

"Don't worry. I'm sorry for being so horrible. We were both shitty roommates...Uhm. Good luck. I mean it. I never found out what you were studying,"

"Oh. Just business. It's boring. You?"

"Biochemistry, entomology, history, literature and philosophy...To name a few,"

"Oh. Nice. I'm gonna go now...If that's okay,"

"Of course. If I don't see you again...Then good luck,"

"And to you,"

He left then. I was a little sad, more so that Jacqui was leaving and that I'd been such a dick.

Pasha returned with some water. I told him. Upon hearing, he perked up and asked how much and what the pet situation was. After I told him, he smiled cheekily.

"I'll take it,"

"What?"

"My landlord hates my dog and my bird, I do not need all the space and it costs too much. I wouldn't mind coming to live with you, if that's alright,"

Needless to say, I hadn't been expecting that at all. Like, where did that come from?

I refused, but one look at Pasha made me reconsider. Not only was he attractive, but he was fucking solid. If I was worried about a stalker, then who better to have around?

I refused at first to seem polite, but I soon accepted. I'd not expected it to happen so soon, and after he left I sat in a daze for a few hours. Yes, hours.

When I looked up, it was dark and my final visitor had arrived. I heard him before I saw him, and tried to look busy with my revision.

" _Mademoiselle Fisher_!" Shuu Tsukiyama approached. He was holding a small bag and placed a small basket of exotic fruit by my bedside. "I heard about what happened to you—such a shame, what a silly little thing you are!"

_How did he know?_

"How did you know?" I asked.

He drew the curtains sharply. "Aren't you going to thank me?"

"Thank you for the fruit,"

"That's better. Manners never hurt anyone,"

"No, but how did you know?"

"Oh, I guessed. Honestly, your apartment stank,"

_Can people stop going into my home without permission? For fuck's sake._

"Were you looking for me?"

"Yes. I was," He paused, looking me up and down. "Anything?"

I wasn't going to discuss it with Takamara next door. She was working the case, for heaven's sake.

"Later," I said, trying to convey my seriousness. It must've worked.

"Fine. Well, what did you do to yourself then?"

"Don't pretend to care,"

He smiled. "Perhaps I do care,"

"Don't lie too,"

"Fair enough, you caught me. Now..." He paced. "I've got a bone to pick with you, actually,"

"Mhm?"

"This dress," He took the woman's sequinned dress from the bag. I felt sick, knowing not only had he been in my home, but that he'd taken something that didn't even belong to me.

I'd have assumed the woman would've taken it when she was in my flat. I didn't have a clue why she'd been there otherwise, (still very weird, mind you).

At least I knew Shuu Tsukiyama was in my apartment looking for me, but what about her? What did she want if not her dress?

She was scaring me far more than the man I'd named Death.

"It's not mine," I said.

"Oh, I know. Why would you have this?"

"Sorry?"

" _This_. _This_ isn't just some _ordinary_ dress. _This_ is a limited edition item made for a very specific type of person. Someone that isn't _you_ ,"

"Okay. Could you stop shaking then? You might damage it,"

"Oh...Right you are," He laid it down.

Honestly, it looked like it'd been taken from any old clothes shop.

"It's not mine," I said.

"I know, because you weren't a member of a ballet troop in 2003,"

"I was thirteen, so I'd only just left school—"

"Did I ask for your life story? No, I don't think I did. Now, who gave you this?"

I paused for a while. "The woman,"

"You'll have to be—"

"The one you said was watching me,"

"What? What happened?"

I explained it to him as I walked to the toilet, eager to get away from Takamara. I told him about what Jack had told me as well.

He sighed. "I don't understand. Why didn't she kill you? You were practically dead anyway,"

"More importantly, why was she in my house? Why give me a limited edition dress? Why do any of what she's done?" He paused as if about to speak. "What? Has something happened to you?"

"Well, it might be nothing, but I doubt it," He said. "A few of my outfits appear to have gone missing. It's probably nothing...Only..."

"What?"

"Well, I'll have to show you, but I have the most wonderful rose garden—"

"I've seen it,"

"It's somewhat of a family tradition, I suppose. Anyway, I had this lovely bush, really thick—"

I snickered. "Maybe you should take care of that,"

"Grow up," He tutted, something I'd only ever seen British people do. "But it had beautiful, pink and red hybrid tea roses—they're incredibly rare—but it was so beautiful, and the other day, I—"

He seemed to upset to finish. I'm not good at comforting people, so it was really awkward.

"I went out to see them," He said, finally. "And the bush...It'd been completely vandalised...The best roses were gone, the others had their heads removed and trampled on. They might as well of set the bush on fire!"

"I'm sorry, that's a horrible thing to do," I said. "You think it was her?"

"Who else could it have been?"

"OK..."

"And that's not all! The other day, I found a dead rat in my camellias!"

"Fertilisation?"

"It didn't have its head,"

"Oh...A bird, perhaps?"

"Maybe. Isn't it odd though? Of course it is. Why am I being treated so unfairly? She gave you an incredibly rare dress, and what do I get? Dead rodents and beheaded roses,"

"Maybe we should tell someone,"

"Ha! Are you insane? What could anyone do?"

"Forensic testing? Someone could look at the dress and get us more information on who she is?"

"I could do that just as easily,"

"I'm sure you could, but I would feel much safer if it was official, not just because of legal re-repercussions, but because of general safety,"

"You might like that, but it's not so easy for me,"

"But what if you are right about it somehow being linked to the homicide? Then we have no choice...And frankly, I don't want to wait around for this to get worse. She was in my flat, that's absolutely...Urgh," I shuddered.

_The sheer thought of it—My God._

_She better not have hurt Trev. If I found out she—I'd kill her myself._

"What could the police do anyway?" Tsukiyama said.

"Like I said; forensics, linking the cases, protection—"

"I can't have police protection. It'd be disastrous,"

_I meant more for me and my pets, but OK_.

"Then hire your own protection," I snapped, starting to tire of him.

I understood why Shuu Tsukiyama was nervous about getting involved with the police, given the blatant speciesism the government promoted against ghouls.

However, this wasn't just a small thing anymore. She'd been in my home, perhaps in his—That wasn't something I could just deal with.

I told him that I'd try to continue snooping for him, but left out the bit about Pasha living with me because I wasn't quite sure what was happening there. Part of me was convinced Pasha was pulling some kind of joke on me.

It wasn't funny.

I don't know how I convinced Shuu Tsukiyama to leave me alone that night, and even after he left, he remained in my mind.

He'd been in my home without permission too, which made me feel sick even though I'd welcomed him in previously.

The whole situation was a confusing mess that made me want to vomit my body weight before crumpling down and dying.

I wondered how and why on Earth I'd gotten into this mess. Why couldn't I just be Charlotte Fisher; prostitute and entomology student.

Why wasn't I allowed to simply stay in my lane and pootle along? I wouldn't bother anyone, I'd just do my own thing.

That's all I wanted. All I've ever wanted really.

And even now, all these years later, I still find myself wondering; why isn't one allowed to simply _pootle_?


	15. Chapter 15

**15**

The following two weeks were insane.

I was discharged from the hospital a few days after being admitted. There'd been threats to send me to an institution, but the threats soon dissipated.

Not even the mental health services cared about me anymore. Not that I was complaining, I hated the mental health services.

When I returned home, Pasha was waiting for me. He hadn't been joking, and was even starting to move in.

I spent my few days off from work in bed or at Shinjuku. I was so tired, and I saw little point in existing without exercise. I just watched Trev or did my schoolwork all day.

I'm like a cat, really. I mean, I'm arrogant, self-absorbed, I like doing my own thing, and I can watch a goldfish all day.

To my horror, the doctor said I couldn't have any rough sex for six weeks. That meant no more one night stands or female clients.

At least my hands and mouth were OK.

I refused to not exercise, so throughout the weeks I took part in whatever I could—mostly upper body and ab workouts, some with weights, I admit.

Pasha tried to stop me, but he gave up. He was a very good roommate. He didn't leave his stuff everywhere, he cleaned up after himself, he asked permission to use things; he was great.

He even brought his own weightlifting equipment, (which I hoped I could steal when I was recovered).

He had a little Pomeranian—Alexei—who was the sweetest little thing I'd ever met, and a parrot, Kiwi. Kiwi talked a lot, and she sat on a playground in the living room most of the time. She could say ' _Hello_ ', but most of the time she just swore in Russian. She was a bit annoying when I was trying to study or do yoga, but other than that she was fine.

This is why I deal with fish and insects—little noise...depending.

I prayed that Pasha living with me meant I could at least get something for Shuu Tsukiyama. I wondered if I would have to use my, ' _wiles_ ', to get what I wanted.

Though, I wondered how Pasha could even bear to live with me after how I'd treated him. I didn't understand him at all; why was he so nice and forgiving? It was definitely suspicious.

It wasn't just him. Lydia Kristofdottir was also nice to me. It was really suspicious.

On my second day back at work, I received a gift.

"Charlotte!" Lydia had pounced on me when I got in.

"Yes?" I asked, ready to start.

"You didn't tell us you had a secret admirer," She giggled.

"Sorry?"

"Aren't they beautiful?" She beamed.

"I don't understand—"

"Someone sent you flowers," Pasha said, walking up to me.

"What?" I was so confused. "Who?"

"I did not check. She probably did though,"

Lydia gasped. "I would _never_!"

I looked at the flowers. They were gorgeous—unlike anything I'd ever seen before.

What really caught me was their colour.

Pink and red roses, plump, healthy and brilliantly bright.

I pursed my lips. "Who sent these?" I asked.

"I don't know, Sweetie," Lydia shrugged.

"Who brought them in?"

"I found them in my office, Sweetie, addressed to you,"

"Has anyone else touched them?"

"Why would you ask that?" Pasha asked.

It was then I noticed Sergeant Kaito Yamamoto lurking in the background.

I didn't reply, taking the envelope from the flowers. It was a get well soon card with a tanuki on it. It read; ' _YOU'RE MUCH PRETTIER THAN YOUR GOLDFISH_ '.

I disagreed with the quote. I assumed she'd seen Trev, so she must've seen that my goldfish has incomparable beauty.

It didn't say who they were from. Before jumping to conclusions, I took a photo of them.

"What are you doing?" Pasha asked.

"Instagram," I lied, sending the photo to Shuu Tsukiyama. I looked back at the flowers.

"Do you want me to keep these in my office?" Lydia asked. I said no, and kept ahold of them.

When I was free, I took the flowers to forensics. I knew lots of the people working there, as I was hoping to do some work experience there after finishing my Bachelor's.

I vaguely explained what it was about, lying that it was under—

"Me. It's my case," Said a voice.

I turned around sharply.

Sergeant Kaito Yamamoto stood there, innocently blinking and staring at me. "Fisher," He motioned for me to follow him.

The flowers in their vase were sent off and I followed him.

"What's this all about?" He asked. "You didn't seem too happy to be getting flowers,"

"No, sir,"

"What's wrong then?"

I hesitated. Tsukiyama had me under strict instructions not to tell anyone, but she'd been in my house, in his house—that wasn't something I could just let slide.

I asked to speak to him privately, before telling him everything—well, I left out Tsukiyama being a ghoul and also a huge creep too.

However, I feared I might've shoved Tsukiyama in it by mentioning that he'd followed her to my...' _job interview_ '.

When I was done, Yamamoto eyed me, thinking. He'd asked me usual questions—did I know anyone who’d do this to us, etc.

I waited nervously for his response. He coughed and sat forward.

"Why didn't you tell anyone before? You knew she was in your house," He asked.

"I...Tsukiyama was worried about the press, and being honest, I thought I'd lost my job; maybe you would think I was creating drama out of revenge or something,"

"That's ridiculous," He said. "Bring the other stuff she gave you into the lab. Oh, and change your locks, you know how to look for any weak points?"

"I do,"

"Call Tsukiyama and have him do the same,"

I nodded. There wasn't much anyone could do, and I wondered why the fuck I'd been so stupid and blurted everything out.

Still, I felt better having told someone, even if there wasn't anything they could do.

Aside from that, work was uninteresting. I continued to bring food as gifts, but now it was more because I was apologising to everyone for my previous behaviour.

I was yet again unable to infiltrate the homicide case.

In a few days, Shuu Tsukiyama called me to his personal manor for our first session together.

Whilst I couldn't really train myself, (though I was), I could still train him.

It went smoothly, though he undermined me a lot, even though I was the professional.

"You don't exactly follow your own advice, do you?" He was saying, in a rest.

"Sorry?" I sighed, staring at weights as a dog would stare at a slab of beef.

"You telling me to make sure I'm eating enough when you... _clearly_ aren't,"

I was flattered by this statement, but all these comments about my weight were starting to annoy me. I didn't know why, because I wanted people to look at me and say, ' _oh wow, she's so skinny, I wish I looked like that_ ,' but it felt like he was lying and laughing at me behind my back.

"Your rest's up," I said, continuing on.

Sessions don't really last very long, not in weightlifting. They're normally only about an hour long.

When we were done, I did ask if I could check the windows for weak points. He said that the windows were all reinforced regularly and that he'd already changed his locks.

Then we had to address the roses.

"Were those roses yours?" I asked.

He looked away. "Yes, they were. I've been meaning to ask; where did you get those from?"

I explained, before saying that I'd sent them to be tested.

"What? _Pourquoi_? I told you, specifically, not to involve anyone—"

"I had to. She was in my house, that's not okay. Those flowers could tell us exactly who she is and we could stop this. I had to,"

He was enraged, to say the least. It was quite scary, and to my embarrassment, I started crying.

I cry when I get scared and confused, I can't help it.

He showed no sympathy, only mocking me more, before leading me outside to see the mangled rose bush. By then, I was begging—screaming—for forgiveness.

He tried to lecture me, but it made little sense. I hadn't even told him about Yamamoto yet.

As he was starting to calm down, and I was crying less, I noticed his attention fall on the large swimming pool in the garden. He walked towards it, with me following.

He stopped at the water's edge, peering into the water. It was me, however, that saw it—a small body in the corner of the pool, a red trail growing behind it.

"What is that?" I asked.

"What?" Tsukiyama looked up.

"That," I pointed. I started to shake, fearing a poor rat or other rodent had drowned.

Tsukiyama narrowed his eyes and called for a servant to come and get it out of the pool.

I felt queasy and dizzy, though I didn't know if that was the anorexia or the dead animal.

Tsukiyama seemed unfazed by it, until the servant he'd called had let out a little gasp. He'd walked over immediately.

"Oh! Good God!" He cried.

I could see it. I could still see the red trail in the water. I approached, then retracted, feeling sick.

It was a cat. A large, white, fluffy cat.

It'd had a lilac collar with a white tag on it, only the tag was red with blood.

If it'd just been a dead cat, no one would've reacted so violently.

Only it wasn't _just_ dead.

It's head. It didn't have a head.

It'd been completely removed.

It was just... _gone_.

"I...That's...That's disgusting," I choked, sniffing.

"It's her," Tsukiyama said. "It has to be,"

"Poor kitty..."

"Where is it?" He asked the servant.

"Where's what, sir?"

"The head. Where's its head?"

"I don't know, sir...I can't see it,"

"Then find it,"

"Should I call the police—"

"Just find its head,"

"Yessir,"

I was fully crying again now.

_That poor cat...It didn't do anything wrong. Why would anyone do that?_

"Stop crying," Tsukiyama snapped.

"Why would anyone do that?" I whimpered.

"Why would anyone put it in my pool, for starters,"

"Don't touch it!"

"I was only going to look at the collar,"

"No! I'm calling—"

"Don't you dare,"

Too late.

I called Yamamoto, telling him in a teary mess, whilst Tsukiyama tried to stop me. Yamamoto said he'd be there and hung up.

I was still crying, now getting angry at Tsukiyama for being a bit of a dick. Eventually, he called a stop.

"OK. _Ça suffit_! That's enough!" He snapped. "Quarrelling won't get us anywhere,"

I sniffed, looking at the cat before turning away in disgust again.

"I'll have someone cover it, we should just leave it, shouldn't we?"

"Until the police get here? Yes,"

"No. No, I want to call your police—"

"Absolutely not. She killed an in-innocent animal and left it here. This is—it's...disgusting,"

"But I—"

"No. I'm not listening to you,"

"It's my house,"

"I don't care. Go inside. I'll start looking around until the police get here,"

There was more squabbling, but eventually, I forced him inside. As he went in, he called out to me.

"Fine. You look around then, but you know; _curiosity killed the cat_ ,"

"As you said; it's in _your_ house,"


	16. 16

16

The cat was in a bag now, away from sight. Its head was nowhere to be found.

There was little evidence aside from the cat itself.

No blood smears or drops—Nothing.

The only other evidence were some faint tire tracks near the back of the manor.

That was it.

Tsukiyama and I were questioned separately. After which I spoke to Yamamoto, who yet again, could do very little.

He offered police protection, which I considered, but Tsukiyama turned it down immediately. I didn't want to waste resources or money, and God forbid I upset Tsukiyama even more. So, I eventually turned it down too, even though I wanted it.

So, nothing else was done, and I returned home before Tsukiyama could have another go at me.

When Pasha got back, he asked me about it, as Yamamoto had told him everything.

"Why did you not tell me?" He asked. "I would have liked to know,"

I gasped, ashamed because I hadn't even considered Pasha. "I'm so sorry. I did not even think about you. If you want to move out—"

"No, no," Pasha said. "I'm not leaving you here alone, not after I've found this out. When did it start?"

I told him everything, in detail. He listened and did as Yamamoto had done, asking me the same questions.

"Why Tsukiyama?" He asked.

I shrugged. "I don't know,"

"Are you sure it's even the same woman?"

"She followed him, then me,"

Pasha paused. "Jesus...What's the link? There's no link between you and Tsukiyama, not one that justifies this anyway,"

I sighed. "I really don't know...Sorry,"

"It's OK..." He paused, looking deep in thought. "You don't have any, like, upset exes or anything?"

"I don't think so...I mean, I think maybe they would have sent me a few messages first?"

"Ok...You are an academic, you did not write, like, an essay or something that upset someone?"

"Well...My philosophy essays can get a bit controversial, and I've done loads of papers on controversial points in history or literature. But most of my essays are only seen by my professors, who are all in Oxford,"

Pasha paused. "I assume it must be directed at Shuu Tsukiyama,"

"Could it be related to the homicide case?"

"Possibly...Especially with the dead cat, but..."

"But?"

"You think it's a woman,"

"So?"

"Women don't usually kill unless they have to, and it's rarely planned,"

This is my chance. I can pry here, then maybe Shuu Tsukiyama won't see me as quite so useless.

"You think the murders were planned?"

He paused. "Probably, but anyway...I don't think a woman could do it—"

"I know, but why not?"

"Because I just said—"

"But that's bollocks. Women are just as violent as men, more so even, I'd say. The idea that women are incapable of pure violence is an outdated, misogynistic belief,"

He blinked. "Right...Well, for now, we are saying it's a man,"

"Do you have any evidence of the killer being a man?"

"Well, no, but—It doesn't matter. These cases probably are not linked,"

Damn.

Oh, nice one. You probably fucked it when you started talking about misogyny. He probably thinks you're some SJW right now.

Well, I am bi, vegan and a strong defender of minority groups.

You're also fat as fuck.

I'm not body-positive though.

"I'll get myself on your case though," Pasha said. "If that is any consideration to you,"

"Not particularly...I just want to know what the hell this all is. Am I in danger? Why? What did I do?"

"We'll find out, I promise...And I'll protect you if I have to,"

"That's the thing. I don't know if I'm the one in danger. I wasn't the one who was sent a decapitated cat," I picked up Aqua, as I'd been concerned with her especially after cat-gate.

Pasha nodded. "Yeah, but she's still made a point of you. If not violently...Well..."

"What?"

He smiled awkwardly.

"You mean romantically?"

He nodded.

"Well, I did kiss her,"

"Exactly. You are not with anyone currently, right?"

I shook my head. "I'm not really good at the whole relationship thing. Normally I end up upsetting them or getting bored. And eventually the whole things starts to feel fake, you know? They all tell me how special I am and how I’m the most beautiful girl in the world, but it’s not like they mean it. They say that to all their partners,”

I paused. “And I used to get my hopes up, thinking ‘Maybe this time, this person means it. Maybe they’re different,’ and they never are. Well, there was this one guy...But he’s gone now,”

“Gone?”

“He’s not here anymore,”

_August 2005._

“I don’t want to talk about it,”

_August 2005._

“Anyway. That was a long time ago now. Are you seeing anyone?" I asked, only interested to see if he'd let me fuck him.

He hesitated. "Well...No, but..."

"But...?"

"But...I have my eye on someone,"

_Damn. I need to get in there quick before he gets stolen._

I mean, the sheer size of the man, I feel like he has a nice cock, and I'm sure it'll feel nice rubbing against my slit.

_Probably get some good cum shots too._

_Oh, God...Cum shots._

I had to stop before I orgasmed in front of him. Thank God for my resting bitch face.

"Lucky girl," I smiled.

He blushed. "Who, with me? Aha. No. More like unlucky. I mean, look at this face—this nose—a face only a mother could love,"

"I like it," I said. "I think you're attractive,"

"No, you d—"

"How come you get to say that but I don't?"

"Because you're actually pretty, you just have, you know... _stuff_ that means you don't see it,"

I scowled, thinking that he, like my mother and therapists, assumed I had body dysmorphia, which I _knew_ I didn't have.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Oh, uh, nothing. Just, I know what I look like. I know I'm not that attractive, but that's okay, because I still love myself, you know?"

"I don't know. How can you love yourself if you think you're ugly?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. I guess it has never bothered me. As long as I'm healthy and strong, that's all I want,"

I didn't understand at all. To me, being healthy was nothing unless you were beautiful—well, _skinny_. I wondered how he could accept himself if he thought he was ugly.

He wasn't ugly, not to me—I enjoyed his large, hooked nose, narrowed eyes and thin lips. I liked his face.

I've always found ' _ugly_ ' people more interesting. I mean, a beautiful man like Shuu Tsukiyama was certainly interesting, but there's a lot more character to a flawed face. I think so, anyway.

And I also believe that there's beauty and ugliness in everything on the planet—in the universe.

I shrugged, a bit bored, and went back to cooking, as I spoke more to Pasha.

"Who is she? This girl you like," I asked.

He paused. "She's a journalist,"

"Oh, no,"

"No, she's nice. She was asking about the murder case, so it's kinda inappropriate,"

"Not unless you act on it,"

"She's out of my league anyway..."

"Am I out of your league?"

"What? Sorry?"

"I'm curious. Am I out of your league?"

"That's a weird question—"

"Just answer it,"

"Yeah, definitely,"

"Hm,"

"What?"

"Nothing. I just...You must have low standards,"

"Wow, thanks,"

"This chicken's done if you wanna get your cutlery and stuff,"

He nodded and got to it, seating himself. I sat opposite with a coffee. We went back to discussing my ' _stalker_ '.

The conversation, however, quickly turned to food. Pasha began to ask what I was eating tonight, if not the meal I'd cooked for him. I began to evade questions, wanting desperately to stop treating him so horribly, but Pasha Sorokin was a very determined man.

He passed me my _My Little Pony_ plate, filling it with vegetables, leftover tofu and some kind of chilli sauce I'd forgotten I'd made. I stared at it. It wasn't dissimilar to my normal nightly meal, only it was far too big.

As he ate, he asked me about things that weren't food, but all I could think about was the food on the plate.

"You study science, right?" He asked.

I nodded, picking broccoli apart with my fork. "Entomology. Biochemistry, yes,"

"How do you manage all that?"

"I enjoy it," I squashed a pea with my fork.

"But how—"

"Good time management," I nibbled some broccoli, moving sweetcorn and peas around my plate.

"Is it hard?"

"Sometimes, but it's fun," I swallowed broccoli, almost choking.

"What's entomology like?"

"Fun,"

"Okay...What else do you study, anything?"

"History—the Native Americans, and I also study their mythology, also some Asian mythology. I have not been to any sites yet, but hopefully I’ll have time soon,"

"Oh, how interesting. I used to live in America,"

_Not sure what has to do with Native American history, but ok._

"Really, where?"

"Florida. My ex-wife lived there,"

Oh, I wonder if he knew anyone in the Seminole or Cherokee, etc.

"I thought you had a face only a mother could love,"

"I needed a green card, she was lonely, _very_ lonely,"

"Right. There isn't a big native population in Florida. There used to be,"

We kept talking about Native Americans, which was frustrating because Pasha, like most people, was incredibly uneducated on their culture and history. Sometimes it astounds me how truly ignorant people are to anything related to the Native Americans. It infuriates me.

Though, talking with him allowed me to more easily distract from my food, allowing it to go cold. When he tried to breach the subject, I diverted, went to do yoga before offering to watch a film with him.

We watched Black Swan, one of my favourites. Pasha kept getting distracted, which was annoying.

As the film went on, I began to edge closer to him, resting my head on his chest. He slowly placed his arm on my shoulder, then down, down, down.

I shut my eyes, waiting.

Nothing happened.

I looked up at him, placing my chin on his chest. He stared down at me.

"What is this?" He asked. "What are we doing?"

I paused. "Well...That depends on what you want," I smiled.

He blushed. "Uh, I don't know...I was not expecting—"

"Me either. Sorry. I didn't mean to pressure you into anything,"

"No, you—It's just...Are you comfortable with this?"

"Absolutely, you?"

"Yeah. I want to,"

There was a pause. I smiled. "Why don't we go into the bedroom? It might be more comfortable...There are no parrots watching us in there," I nodded to Kiwi.

Pasha nodded and we went into his room. He'd cleaned up since Jack, getting rid of the smell and making the room look tidier and bigger.

Once we were comfortable, I offered him condoms. He decided to use his own, not my strawberry flavoured ones. To be fair, I think mine were too small anyway because he was massive.

I mean really, _really_ massive. I knew I was having fun that night.

I was eager to do it, pouncing on him as I removed my bra. My breasts spilled out and rested on his chest, as I placed my hand on his groin.

"Woah, woah," He said. "Let's just...Slow down,"

"Oh, sorry. I didn't mean to push you," I giggled, I couldn’t wait ready to start.

"No, no, you didn't. Uh. Just, with your legs, they said no rough activity,"

"Then you'll have to be gentle with me," I smiled thinly, lowering myself back onto him. "And there's plenty I can do without my legs,"

He was very gentle, caring, almost. It felt intimate, even though I had no romantic feelings towards him. I was very rough, desperate not only to please him, but to finally achieve an orgasm.

I've never orgasmed. I've always almost had it. I've never gotten there. I can't even cum at the appropriate time, it just happens randomly throughout the day. How ironic; the horny-as-fuck, pansexual prostitute who can't even orgasm.

I was praying that Pasha Sorokin with his massive cock would save me from the endless chasm of unsatisfactory sex.

He didn't. He tried, but in the end it was just annoying. At least it was fun, I guess, and he got an orgasm and a blowjob out of it for free.

It was just a nice experience. Just _nice_.

I slept with him that night. His bed was warm and it was nice to have him in bed—he was hairy and I mean, with those muscles—it was like sleeping with a big bear!

I slept extremely well that night for the first time in years, I suppose.

Waking up was yet again, a disappointment.

Pasha was still asleep, so I decided to make my escape early and get some chores done.

I cooked breakfast for him last, then sat to do schoolwork. He came out not long after, a frantic air about him.

"We have to go," He said.

"Good morning,"

"Seriously. We have to get to Kita, now, get your uniform on,"

"What? What are you—"

"Charlotte, Morimine wants us in the seventeenth ward now,"

"Why? We don't work there,"

_Something big, I assume._

_Like what I had in my mouth last night?_

_That didn't even make sense, you idiot._

"It's related to our case. They passed it to us. Come on. He wants the same people that were at the first one,"

"First what?"

_We knew it'd happen. Those stickers meant something was going to happen again._

"Murder. There's been another murder,"


	17. 17

** 17 **

There were three victims.

Akane Takahashi, female, aged thirty-one.

Eiichi Takahashi, male, aged thirty-three.

And Maiko Takahashi, female, aged just seven years old.

That was the youngest dead body I'd ever seen. I should've been disgusted, but I was fascinated.

I wanted to know how different her organs would be. How her skin and teeth would differ. How developed her systems were, the size of her reproductive system—I wanted to know everything.

She was the last victim I saw.

Mr Eiichi Takahashi was the first. He was in the kitchen. He'd been stabbed multiple times, well, I say stabbed—more like butchered.

The knife patterns looked more like that of a meat cleaver. His chest was a maze of deep cuts, crossing over and over each other. His neck had almost been severed by the wounds, they were that deep.

It was a sight for sure, blood everywhere, cuts everywhere...Most people had to step outside.

I didn't, neither did Lieutenant Morimine or Sergeant Yamamoto, who was also there.

"This looks personal," Yamamoto said. "Are we sure it's the same—"

"It's the same sticker," Morimine snapped. "Fisher, why are you just standing there doing nothing?"

"Oh! Sorry...Uh. I was just looking at the blood patterns, sir,"

"Is that _your_ job?"

"Well, I know a bit about blood patterns—I took a course when I was seventeen—"

"Can you tell me anything?"

"Well...It was done from above, see? But this neck wound was done first, whilst he was standing. That's how there's blood on the counter. Looking at that neck wound, I'd say the weapon got stuck. I mean, look at those wounds, it was obviously a cleaver of sorts—"

"You're not telling me anything new,"

"Basically, the killer went for his neck, finished the job on the floor,"

"Thanks for nothing—"

"Sir? We didn't know some of that—" Yamamoto started.

"Fisher, make yourself useful, go and look around. And stop gawking, you're not a goldfish,"

I walked off, collecting samples and looking for signs of forced entry. Someone must've covered Mr Takahashi because everyone who'd left started coming back in.

By then, I was on the second victim—Mrs Akane Takahashi.

Mrs Takahashi was in the living room, she too had been butchered.

Her thighs had been slashed open, similar to how I'd slashed my own just days before. Only the cuts were too deep to even be called cuts. Again, they were so deep, her legs had almost been completely removed.

Blood everywhere.

As mentioned earlier, bleeding out of the femoral artery happens very quickly, very high pressure, very dangerous.

Not fun. _Really_ not fun.

There was wine all over the place too, and glass.

_Must've been a shock._

It was then that I moved to the small bedroom at the back. It was there I found Maiko Takahashi.

The cause of death for Maiko Takahashi was obvious.

I'd never seen a neck so cleanly snapped. I'll spare any further details.

Her death wasn't the most disturbing thing though. I will say.

It was how it was done.

Someone had been hiding in her wardrobe. Someone had been hiding under the bed.

That poor child would've been terrified. The murders were committed at night. She must've been terrified of whatever was under the bed.

It made me shudder. Something about her being in the room with the killer—scared in bed—it made me shudder.

I searched her room for more evidence. Sergeant Yamamoto came in and pieced it together himself.

"That's horrible," He breathed.

I nodded. "Found a sticker straight away," I showed him the bag.

"Did you see Akane Takahashi?"

"Yes,"

"They must've known the killer. I refuse to believe this wasn't personal,"

I nodded. "You don't just do...that to people you've never met, right?"

"Some people would," I said. "Anyone can be capable of anything,"

"Could you do this? To strangers?"

I paused. I thought about that night in August 2005; I was fourteen. "As I said, anyone can be capable of anything. You just have to push them hard enough,"

"And who pushed the killer?"

I shrugged. "I'm not working this case. I'm just a part-timer. I'm not a real police officer. Just ignore me,"

He paused. "Did Maiko have a laptop?"

"She was seven,"

"And?"

"She had a VTech,"

"Oh. Not useful then,"

"Did the others?"

"Yes,"

"Hm. There were not any laptops or phones at the previous scene..." I trailed off.

"I'm convinced this was a copycat,"

"I have not seen hardly any media on the case. There is not even anything on Shuu Tsukiyama," I was stuttering, staring at what I'd found.

"Speaking of, Morimine wants you to check the cameras again. God knows why, I don't think Katherine Raabe or Shuu Tsukiyama are easily missed and they don't live here," He paused. "Are you okay?"

"Come and look,"

"What?"

I'd found a few white animal hairs on the floor.

Cat hair.

"I think it's cat fur, sir," I said.

"How do you know?"

"It's animal fur at least..."

He hesitated. "Bag it. If it's the same cat, (which I doubt), it'll come up. Don't worry about it,"

But I did worry about it.

It consumed me.

The rest of the day, all I thought about was the hair.

I could barely focus on the security camera footage. Pasha had to help.

"You OK?"

"No...I—" I paused, then stopped completely, turning my attention away.

"Oh! Look, here," He paused the video feed.

It was the last camera we checked, the outside one. At daybreak, for about two minutes, a small figure could be seen clambering over the fence and slipping into Maiko Takahashi's room.

The figure was small, wearing all black. It's also noted that they removed their shoes before stepping inside. The shoes, by the look, were running shoes.

We couldn't define gender and captured no look of the face. The figure kept their head down constantly, a hood hiding their face.

We skipped ahead through the night, but the figure never emerged. They never returned to collect their shoes or anything.

Pasha and I both looked at each other, puzzled. The killer must've been wearing clothes under their black ones, but why didn't they take their shoes?

What's more, we didn't find any running shoes at the scene, so where had they gone?

We went through the footage more, until an hour prior to us watching it. No one with us had got them, only Lieutenant Kristofdottir came out to check and ordered an officer around.

So, we went back, we checked for the someone who could be the killer exiting, then watched anyone that even walked past those shoes.

We handled the shoes first. As it turned out, they disappeared just before we got there, after a young woman in a wheelchair passed by.

She was skinny, dark-haired, that was it. The only other notable feature was her wheelchair. We didn't even know if she was Japanese or not.

When moving on to the killer exiting, it seemed easy, as very few people were leaving throughout the night. Only it wasn't so simple.

As literally no one left in our time frame. No one remotely suspicious, that is.

The killer must've left out the back entrance, where there weren't any security cameras.

"What a waste of time," Pasha said.

"We saw the killer entering, their shoes being taken, that's something, right?" I said.

He shrugged, before sighing and leaving with the camera footage.

I wondered to myself why the killer had done electrical work at the Nakamura Scene, but not this one.

_They must've injured themselves, getting blood in one. But why change/clean all of them in that room? It doesn't make any sense._

I thought, before being interrupted by an officer who started ordering me to take care of our final tasks on site.

When I finished, I went on Instagram to tell Shuu Tsukiyama. He'd just posted a picture of a party he was at, (as it was now evening). He was with some uber-famous people, the most notable being Genesis Slawter.

Genesis Slawter was one of Japan's most notorious popstars. She used a mix of classical music with pop.

She was also beautiful, and controversial. _Very_ controversial. She was also extremely, overbearingly, anno

I liked her.

Her parties were famous in Tokyo, at least among the elite. They were ' _innovative_ ' and ' _fresh_ ', according to Shuu Tsukiyama, who seemed to be at every one of her parties. He wrote a blogpost after every single one.

They looked wild. They looked like parties billionaires _would_ have.

Rich people have insane parties, but more about that later.

The image grasped my attention because it had a location. He was in Fuji, not Tokyo.

I messaged him whilst I waited for my bus to Shinjuku: _Hi. There's been another murder. I should not really be telling you, but I thought you would want to know_.

He replied immediately with: _Who? Do I know them_?

_I don't know. It was in Kita. Takahashi—common name, right? There was a seven-year-old girl._

_Never heard of them. Anything?_

_Not really. You don't know anyone in a wheelchair, do you?_

_Yes, why?_

_A possible suspect._

_In Kita? I can't think...Although._

There was a pause as he typed.

_It's probably nothing, but I understand one of my professors—Katherine Raabe—was a suspect for a while?_

_Yes._

_Well, I don't know if it's worth anything, but I know she's friends with a paralysed young woman. I think maybe another professor's daughter._

_Who's daughter?_

_I think he's a law professor. Swedish, I think._

_Oliver Gunnarson?_

_That's it! His daughter, I think._

It was probably irrelevant, but it was an odd coincidence, so worth looking into. I knew Pasha and the others were aware of Oliver Gunnarson and Katherine Raabe, so I didn't doubt they'd pick it up.

I tried to think of a possible tale I could spin for them to get someone to look into it. All of them seemed to get me into trouble.

I thanked Tsukiyama anyway, who told me he'd be back in Tokyo in just a few hours. He had a business conference or something.

I was also working late that night. I'd made an arrangement with a few bars and met clients there. It was there that I met a woman who I've only come to pity.

I saw her dancing alone first. She had bright red hair in plaits, it was blue at the ends. Her face wasn't anything special, she wasn't fat nor thin, but curvaceous. Honestly, what brought my attention to her was her massive breasts.

They were huge. The biggest I'd ever seen.

I watched her dance for a long time, entranced, until I went out to give a guy a handjob. When I returned, she was drinking at the bar. She didn't notice me staring at her for a bit, until she found out what my job was and approached me.

"Hi," She said, smiling.

I blushed. "Uh, hi,"

"Nice tats," She nodded to a tattoo of a thumb-sized frog with a daisy umbrella above my breasts. "What's your name?"

"Amber,"

"Amber. Hm. Is that your real name?"

"If you want," I paused. "Did you want something?"

She smiled thinly. "My girlfriend just broke up with me,"

I nodded. "Right. Sorry, and now you are...looking for some fun?"

"Exactly. Do you do women?"

"Absolutely,"

"How much per hour?"

"Hm. Hour?" I might've upped my price a bit, mainly because we had to do it in her car. She also tipped me quite a bit.

Being honest, I would've shagged her for free...those tits were the best. She was amazing.

It didn't feel like work, it felt like fun.

I hoped she had fun, but then why else would she have tipped me?

It was just nice, and yes—this woman is important and _not_ just another client.

After I finished with her, I cleaned myself up and went to meet one of my regulars.

I was escorting him somewhere that night—a business conference—I think he was an accountant, he was boring and he had a lot of money, so I assumed so.

I gave him a blowjob before we went, he said it'd help him with his ' _mindset_ ' or something like that.

He was very boring.

What wasn't boring was who else I saw at this business conference.

You've probably already guessed, but guess who else was at that business conference?


	18. 18

18

" _Mademoiselle_ Fisher?"

"Oh! OhmyGod. You. Uh. Hello,"

" _Bonsoir_ , might I ask, why are you here?"

"Work,"

He looked confused. "Work? As in..."

"Mhm,"

"Who are you with?"

"Uh—"

" _Amber_ , what have I told you about wandering off?" The guy I was with—we'll call him Kobayashi—approached and placed his hand on my back. "Oh, Tsukiyama, I didn't think you'd be here,"

I went quiet then—barely speaking again. I smiled and nodded and spoke when spoken to—though the only people taking any notice of me was Kobayashi, Tsukiyama and Tsukiyama's father, who I met later on—when I was sitting alone.

"Good evening," He'd said. I immediately guessed he was related to Tsukiyama.

"Good evening," I smiled.

"You must be—" He started, but was interrupted by Shuu Tsukiyama, who came out of nowhere.

"Father, this is..." He paused. "This is...Well, apparently she likes changing her name but—"

"Charlotte. Charlotte Fisher," I nodded, trying to stop the awkwardness.

"Who I thought then," Said Tsukiyama's father, "It's a pleasure to meet you,"

"And you,"

"Shuu's told me a lot about you,"

"Oh! I'm sure he has," I smiled politely, shaking his hand.

I can't remember how, but we got talking about my studies. At first, he seemed like he was more interested in my historical and literary studies, but to my surprise, he became more interested in my scientific studies.

It was so refreshing to speak to someone about my favourite subjects. To my delight, he was most intrigued by my entomology in particular.

I think I might've gotten too excited. I basically forgot what I was there to do because I was so into this conversation we were having.

I don't get to talk about insects a lot. Not unless it's with a fellow student or professor. No one ever seems to care about insects. Whenever I try, I normally annoy people or they interrupt me.

So obviously I was super excited to talk freely about one of my greatest passions in life.

We discussed evolution, the moulting process and my current projects in great detail. And he didn't seem bored or annoyed once!

It was amazing. I think the whole thing ended by the time we'd finished our discussion.

Needless to say, a few people weren't pleased with that, and my feelings of excitement and joy were replaced with guilt and shame.

I apologised to everyone, especially Kobayashi, who was rightfully pissed off. I didn't make my usual money that night, obviously, but that was my fault for getting so carried away. He had an argument with me in his car, before shooing me out and driving off.

It was now pouring with rain, and I wasn't dressed for that. I let out a huff and changed into my trainers.

I went back into the bar, removing my smakeup and checking bus times. I'd missed them all, so I tried Pasha.

He wasn't answering his phone, so I prepared for a long walk in the rain.

"Oh, I'd thought you'd gone," Shuu Tsukiyama emerged from the toilets.

"No. How long of a walk is it to Nerima?"

He scoffed. "You'll be walking hours, _Chérie_ , you probably wouldn't even make it,"

I paused. "I have not got another choice,"

He sighed. "Well, I _suppose_ I can take you,"

"Oh, no,"

"I need to talk to you anyway. You can't just tell me something like _that_ via message,"

I nodded and followed him to his car. Apparently his father was taking a separate car, which I didn't understand. I was curious as to how he'd gotten from Okinawa to Tokyo so fast—private transport, apparently.

I told him what I could about the murder, making sure to mention the potential cat hair found at the scene.

"Does that mean that I'm no longer a suspect?" He'd asked. I said I didn't know and he asked if I'd found anything new. I hadn't.

Then he began asking about Kobayashi; about why I was with him at a business conference. I didn't know, he'd invited me to accompany him after a blowjob in Shinjuku. I didn't ask questions when I got jobs. I just focused on not fucking up.

When he dropped me off, Pasha wasn't back, which was fine. I went to my room, worked out a bit, then studied and got a grand total of two hours sleep.

Over the next few days, I tried and tried to investigate more of the murder cases, but it was like Himari knew what I was trying to do. She gave me more and more useless jobs to do, whilst Lydia gave me most of her paperwork.

It was on my day off that something happened.

I was outside, sitting in the sunlight for once, whilst studying and reading _American Psycho_. I placed my boots on the arm of the chair, occasionally throwing my feet into the air.

" _Bonjour_ ," Said a voice suddenly. I looked up and saw Shuu Tsukiyama out on a run. He stopped and approached.

"Good morning,"

"What an odd position to be reading in,"

I shrugged.

"It's almost photogenic, really,"

"Photogenic?"

"Yes. Let me," He took out his phone, I went to object but he held up a hand and for some reason, I shut up.

"Now stay still," He paused. "Raise your head a bit—That's it, no, don't look at me, look left. Raise your chin again. _Parfait_ ," He took the picture and tapped on his phone. He showed me. "It's hardly a masterpiece,"

"It's alright," I said.

"Maybe I'll post it,"

I shot up to protest, but realised he was joking. He looked up at the door. I followed his gaze, seeing Pasha coming out holding a tiny box.

"What’s that?" I asked.

"What's he doing here?"

"Well, I was just out on a run and I happened to stop by,"

"Hm. Okay. This was on the doorstep. It's addressed to me but I don't recognise the handwriting,"

"Uhm, Pasha,"

"What?"

"It's wet,"

"Huh?"

"The box...it's wet. It's got a big stain on it...And it, uh, smells like...like a dead animal,"

He nodded. "I know. What do you think it is?"

"Why don't you just open it?" Shuu Tsukiyama asked.

"This isn't any of your business,"

"It's not mine either. It's your package," I laughed. "Sorry. I could have phrased that better,"

"Yeah..." He moved the lid slightly. The stench was overpowering. I'd been around lots of dead animals, but that, _that_ , was the smell of a corpse that'd been left to swell and sweat for a long time.

"That's definitely something dead," I coughed.

Pasha looked like he'd throw up. I offered to do it, but he refused and opened it, immediately dropping it on the floor. “Jesus fucking—" He said.

Whatever it was, it rolled out of the box.

I heard Shuu Tsukiyama gasp. "That's...It is, isn't it?"

I nodded. "The poor thing..."

"That's fucked up. What the fuck?"

I paused. "At least we found its head,”


	19. 19

**19**

Finding the cat head wasn't pleasant, but it was a relief.

At least the animal could be properly laid to rest now.

Now lay the bigger problem of why it'd been sent to Shuu Tsukiyama and Pasha Sorokin in particular.

Tsukiyama bolted before anyone else arrived, which really, _really_ wasn't helpful.

Pasha said it must've been Tsukiyama doing it. Sergeant Kaito Yamamoto seemed to agree.

"I don't think he is," I'd said, "I saw that woman—"

"And then he showed up. He could just be paying some girl and blaming her," Pasha said.

"But the cat—"

"He could've easily done that,"

Yamamoto nodded. "We can question him again. We have to,"

"Mhm,"

I genuinely didn't think it was Tsukiyama. Alright, yes, I knew he had been watching me; but that was for an obvious reason. He already scared the life out of me by existing, I didn't see why he'd send me anonymous gifts and send himself a decapitated cat.

Plus, there was the factor that whoever was doing this might've been romantically attracted to me, which Shuu Tsukiyama wasn't. At least, he seemed like he wasn't. He seemed disgusted by me, actually.

I expressed this, but I was quickly shot down. Then Yamamoto was curious as to why Pasha had been sent the head, which led to shrugs because we really shouldn't have slept together.

Though it was obvious what was the reason, and we both knew that.

"That means that sick fuck was watching us," He'd said, later on, as I cooked his dinner.

"No," I said. "Not _watching_ ,"

"Hu—Oh. OhmyGod,"

"There aren't any windows in your bedroom so..." I shuddered.

"He was in here...Fuck. Fuck. Fuck,"

"It's fine. It's fine. It'll all be fine...I-I'm getting the locks changed,"

"Jesus...What did we do? Fuck. Right. Uh,"

"I might...No, I should stay. Pasha, you should go and stay in a hotel or something. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry—I should never have let you move in—"

"Hold on, I invited myself in, and I'm not just going to leave you here. I told you that,"

"It's dangerous. God knows what they might do next. I don't want anyone to get hurt,"

"I know, but I will not just leave you. We can go together—"

"No, I need to look after my goldfish. I cannot leave her,"

He laughed. "It's just a fish—"

"Then let's leave your dog and parrot here too,"

"What? No,"

"Then why does Trev have to get left behind?"

"Be-Because...Charlotte, it's a goldfish,"

"Well, your dog's just a dog,"

"It's not the same,"

"I think it is, and I'm not going anywhere unless my Trev is coming with me,"

He sighed. "You are just being silly—"

"I'm not going anywhere without her. I refuse,"

He huffed, thinking. "Alright fine, but I'm getting surveillance sorted, they should start tomorrow,"

"What? Isn't that—"

"It's happening. In the meantime, maybe we will have to sleep in one room,"

"What?"

"It's one night and we have done it before. It's just so we know we are both safe, OK?"

I hesitated, before nodding. It was only one night, and we'd done it before.

I had to work that night. Pasha objected, but I needed money. I always needed money.

On that night, I recall wearing a black skirt that barely covered my ass, with a mesh top and a bra that made my tits look bigger than they were.

You could say I was asking for what happened next. It was my fault.

I didn't want to be late that night, not after the day's events. However, I felt I had a duty to my regulars, so went to see them.

I found my job was easier in Japan. It was mainly just blowjobs, handjobs, dances and fingering, oh, and sometimes anal. It wasn't as exhausting as constant full-sex.

I didn't have to fake orgasm. My body wasn't bruised afterwards.

It was easier.

Being a sex worker is a shit, _shit_ job. Don't do it. _Ever_.

It's painful, exhausting, thankless and everything worse. Your body becomes _everything_.

Sometimes you'll give the best blowjob you can to someone who's never heard of personal hygiene, and they still don't pay you half of what they promised.

It's just... _shit._

The only thing you can do is get on with it.

That's what I did that night, when I hated my job. When I hated my vagina, my body—everything—more so than usual.

You probably already guessed what's going to happen.

I'd been finishing up for the night. I'd just seen Kobayashi, who'd forgiven me for the other night.

I was on a street corner, checking my phone whilst waiting for a bus. I remember checking Shuu Tsukiyama's Instagram. I was warning him about Pasha's suspicions, though I doubted it was on his mind—he was at a party on Mount Aso, taking oversaturated photos of the volcano from above and slightly lewd selfies with Genesis Slawter.

I remember checking her Instagram too. She always showed the side Tsukiyama didn't show—She posted videos of her doing lines or selfies with ecstasy on her tongue. On that night, there were several photos of her as drunk as fuck, her tiny breasts hanging out of her dress.

Whenever ever one asked about how this matched up with her Catholism, she said God forgave her and that was that. Very vague, I noticed.

Ihad a huge crush on Genesis Slawter; she was so fascinating. I had a huge crush on Shuu Tsukiyama too, I had a huge crush on anyone who's wallet was that big.

It was really cold that night. So _so_ cold.

"Hey," A voice called out.

I looked up, seeing a man of about thirty standing in front of me. I knew what he wanted.

"Whatever you want, it’ll have to be quick; I don't want to miss my bus," I said.

He didn't say anything. "Down here," He dragged me down an alleyway. I asked what he wanted, but he ignored me.

There was another man in the alleyway.

I was confused. I didn't like this one bit. I'd had sketchy clients before, but sometimes you just _know_ , you know?

"It's more for two," I said. I prayed marking myself up would deter them.

"She looks cheap," The newer man said.

_Cheap? I suppose that's fair. I got all these clothes from a charity shop._

"You'll do two at a time, right?" The first man asked.

"I don't have—"

A big enough mouth? Enough hands?

"Dude, look at her, she'd take _anything_ ,"

"I would not—"

"I'll give you 3000,"

_That's just insulting._

"She looks like she'd take 2000! Aha!"

"Piss off," I said.

One of them placed a hand on my shoulder, I tried to shake them away, but his hand only went down, down, down.

"Piss off," I repeated. "Do you honestly think I'd take two cheap pricks—"

"You're the only cheap one here, darling,"

"I'm not fucking cheap. Let go of me,"

"Why are you in such a rush, honey? We're paying you,"

"Your price is insulting,"

"Don't you want money?"

"No, I—"

"Oh, I know what you want," He held up a bag of white powder. "This, right? It's worth a lot more than 3000,"

I wad completely insulted. "You—Fuck off! I'm not a junkie,"

"Give her some,"

"No! Get that away from me—No!" I screeched, as one of them caught me and held me in place. I screeched for help, but anyone walking by only walked quicker.

_Why isn't anyone helping me? Help! I don't want this! I don't! Someone, please!_

I screeched and screeched. No one cared.

_Story of my life, really. No one cares._

I was too busy screaming to see one of the men drawing a line on the top of a bin, beginning to unbuckle his belt. The man holding me grabbed me by my hair as I screamed.

_This can't be happening. Not again. Not again! No! No! No!_

Every part of me was screaming. Why wasn't anyone helping me?

The man holding me got annoyed with my screeching and slammed my head down, before smashing it on the bin and demanding I snort or he'd fucking kill me.

I didn't care if he killed me. I'd rather have died a million times than do what they asked of me.

I just kept screaming and begging for help, but no one came.

I was left to wonder why everyone seemed so concerned with me when I didn't want help, but when I was being assaulted in an alleyway; no one ever cared.

_Where was my therapist? Where was my Mummy? Where was anyone?_

_So much for caring. They're all filthy liars. Probably laughing at me._

It got to a point where I couldn't scream anymore. My voice had gone and all I could do was freeze.

I was like a possum, a fainting goat—an overpowered animal accepting .

When overpowered, it's simply better to accept whatever will happen to you.

I still whined and whimpered, silently sobbing. It hurt. It hurt so much.

I remember seeing a stray dog staring, _watching_. The only one who took any notice of me.

It whined and eventually tried to approach, but one of the men pushed it and eventually threw it away. It scampered off, barking.

One of the men sighed and stamped off to go and get it. He was stopped by another man—one who I recognised from work; Ryōma.

I immediately cried out in help. Ryōma looked up and looked at the men, one of whom didn't stop rubbing his dick in between my thighs.

"What's going on here then?" He asked. "I heard screaming,"

"Please, Ryōma, you have—" I said quickly, but the man humping me put his hand on my mouth. I bit it.

"Oh, you fuck—She's just a whore, don't worry,"

"Why was she screaming then?"

"She's a junkie. Now, why don't you—"

"What’s in that bag? Sugar?”

"None of your fucking business—"

"It might be, actually," He showed his badge. "I'm a police officer,"

One of the men swore and backed away, the other still holding me. "Yeah, so? This is legal. It's anal,"

"Coke isn't legal though, neither is sexual assault,"

"Well, I'm not assaulting her and it's her’s anyway,"

I yelped again, shaking my head in protest.

"Alright, let her go. Come on,"

"Fuck off, I paid for this,"

I moaned again, I cried and sobbed.

Ryōma waited. "Do you want to do this at the station?"

"Seriously?"

"Right, let's go—"

"Fine," The man pulled away from me and buckled up his belt. I immediately pulled up my skirt and got away from him. I tried to look for the dog.

The men ran off without paying me, which insulted me even more.

I thanked Ryōma, waiting for him to shout at me, but nothing happened. I went to leave, telling him I'd miss my bus and that we could talk about my situation at work with everyone else, but he stopped me.

He'd placed a hand on my arm instead. I flinched. I didn't want anyone to touch me. It almost physically hurt.

"Hold on, now. Where do you think you're going?" He sneered.

I gasped. "Oh, do you want money?"

"No. Sit,"

I sat on a bin, waiting like a dog caught red-handed eating a birthday cake.

"You realise that that's illegal?"

"It's all non-coital,"

"Yeah, yeah, that's what they all say...But you—you—work for the police. You'll lose your job over this,"

"I know, sir,"

_Pays shit anyway. I only do it to get the mental health services off my back._

"I know you don't care. You made that very clear the other day,"

I blushed.

"But you know what else would happen?"

I waited.

"This gets put on your record. That might not sound all that bad—but you're studying science at university, right?"

"Yeah, entom—”

He laughed. "Whatever. But do you honestly think they'd let someone like you anywhere near that university? Let alone in a science lab,"

"I don't see why it'd have anything to do with my future. They only care about what I get in exams—"

"That's not how it works. Scientists don't want sluts like you in labs,"

"Again, I don't see how it matters,"

"They wouldn't want a girl like you. A slut. A _whore_. You’re trash—less than trash, even. They'd laugh in your face,"

"No, you are—"

"I mean...Look at you; you don't look anything like a scientist anyway, but with this on your record, this—Not even McDonald's would take you,"

"Uh, okay,"

"So you wouldn't want anyone to find out about this, would you?"

I shrugged. "I guess not,"

"Hm. What I thought. Now, you've got two choices here—either I tell everyone, you lose your job, your education; everything. Or..."

"Or..."

He smiled, placing his arm around me. "You do me a few favours, and I let this slide,"

"Favours? But...You are married,"

"So? Half your clients are married. Besides, my wife is fat and ugly, but you...You're _gorgeous_. You get me?"

I nodded. "I think so,"

"Mhm. Good, good. We have a deal?"

I thought. Surely it wouldn't be much? He'd probably get bored of me before long and let me go. It's not like it would've been much work.

I nodded. "Yes,"

"Great, now bend over,"

"What? _Now_? But—"

"I said; bend over," He unbuckled his belt.

I didn't want to. Not after what'd happened. I'd thought he'd meant the next day, not _now_.

I winced. "...Of course," I turned and let him pull my skirt off. "Do you need a condom?" I asked.

"Oh, I like it raw,"

I was going to protest, but figured there was no point and just turned away, waiting for it to happen.

_It's fine. I've got an implant, I'm on the pill, it's fine. It'll be fine. Just grin and bear it. Just deal with it. Everything will be fine._

He did as he pleased, gripping my breasts and crying out and grunting. I was thankful it was from behind, for I was crying silently.

I felt so stupid. So, so stupid.

Stupid for getting stuck in such a mess. Stupid for going out that night. Stupid for thinking I could do it all.

I just felt _stupid_.

I wanted to cry harder, but had to hold it in. I breathed shakily, wincing quietly whenever he tugged my hair or when his cum dripped down my legs.

When he was done, I couldn't move, I just stared at the wall with wet eyes.

"See? That wasn't so bad, was it?" He said.

_I want to throw up._

I shook my head.

He grumbled. "See you tomorrow. Have a good night, I know I will,"

I nodded, my throat dry.

He walked away. "Oh, hi doggy," He called over the stray mutt with cloudy eyes. He stroked it, before shoving it away.

I gasped and he chuckled before slinking off. When he was gone, I immediately called the dog over. It was crying and whining.

I picked it up and put it on my lap, stroking it. It smelt awful, like death, but a dog is a dog and I like dogs.

Eventually, it raised its head, nuzzling into my chest. I sighed.

_I will not cry. I will not cry. I am okay_

_'I try so hard to play their way—'_

_Now is not the time to quote musicals, Brian. Especially not that one._

_But...But we love Carrie._

The dog whined, pawing at my chest as if he knew I was upset. I smiled as much as I could.

"You wanna come home with me for a bit?" I said, stroking it. "Yeah? That's good...Just...Oh," He scrambled out of my arms and ran off.

That was it.

I just started crying. Really crying.

Then the dog came back, holding something. It wagged its tail as much it could.

"You came back," I whispered. I wiped my eyes. "What's that? Oh..."

It was a battered teddy bear.

"This yours? Well, you're just ready to go, aren't you? Hm?" I stroked it. "Come on, I need to go to sleep,"

I picked it up and ran to the bus stop. I'd missed all the buses, and I felt even more stupid. Pasha would either laugh at me or get annoyed if I asked if he could pick me up, so I began to walk home with the mutt—who I'd called Mark, because I just wanted to say ' _Oh hi, Mark_ '.

I walked home, my emotions seemed to have disappeared. I no longer wanted to cry or scream. It was like I was a void. A shell of whatever I'd been.

Each step seemed painful and painfully boring. Everything seemed bland and empty, despite the district's bright lights that hurt my eyes.

I stared at the floor, then up at the sky. I didn't want to think about it. I didn't want to think about anything.

So, when I noticed the young woman staring at me as she always did. When I noticed her flirty grin and the fact she was following me; I did nothing.

I didn't care. I didn't want to think about her. She could've stabbed me and I wouldn't have batted an eyelid at that point. I simply thought of two things; sleeping and cutting.

I can't tell you if she stopped following me, but I didn't care and ignored her. I remember letting Mark the dog in and being greeted by Pasha, who immediately expressed concern.

"Where have you—Oh, God," He swore in Russian. "Something happened. What happened?"

"Nothing,"

"No not lie. Wh-Wh-There's a dog,"

"That's Mark,"

"Mark?"

" _Oh hi, Mark_ ,"

"...I do not understand, but okay. What's happened? Come on, tell me,"

"Nothing,"

"Have you taken something?"

"No,"

"Then...That’s a nasty bruise, where did you—Oh, fuck, tell me you were not—"

"I don't want to talk about it," I gave Mark some water and food and made a beeline for the bathroom. Pasha stood in front of the door.

"No. I'm not letting you—"

"Pasha, please—"

"After what happened the other week. I'm not letting you do it,"

I sighed. "It's the only thing that helps. Move. I need to. If I don't it’ll just get worse,"

"No. You do not need—”

I shoved him out of the way, sliding through the gap between him and the bathroom and shutting the door. He placed his foot in the door. "Don't be a dick," I said.

"I'm not. Charlotte, come on, let's talk about this,"

"I don't want to talk. I want you to leave me alone,"

"That's not safe,"

"Fuck off,"

"Charlotte, come on, calm down—Ow! Open the d—Unlock it...Charlotte?"

I sat on the floor, retrieving my blades from under the cabinet. I didn't think about it, I just had to do it. I had to.

I hated myself for doing it, I hated that I did it. I hated that I couldn’t stop. I hated that I _needed_ to do it.

It just made me feel so... _relaxed._

I was a mess by the end of it, and sore for days afterwards. I felt dizzy upon standing up and going to the door, my plan to sleep.

Pasha seemed against that, so I became even more annoyed. I'd had an awful night, was it too much to ask for sleep? Was that truly too much to ask?

I avoided him, burying myself in my bed. Pasha must've been settling the dogs, because he came in later, giving me a hot water bottle, before laying on the floor. I'd forgotten that he was staying in my room.

I tried to ignore him, though I worried he’d might do something to me. I lay awake, not knowing what to do or how to feel.

I knew there wasn't anything I could do. It was all over now—nothing anyone could do about it. All I could do was deal with it.

Just pretend everything was fine.


	20. 20

**20**

Things at the station got worse.

Ryōma made my life hell. Everywhere I went; he was there.

He made me his assistant, asking me to make him coffees and sandwiches and do other stuff. Whilst doing so, he'd ogle at me or place his hands on my butt or breasts. Whenever he was alone with me, he'd do whatever he could.

Himari also seemed to double down on my work, creating more specific jobs I could never do right.

Pasha and Lydia picked up on it immediately and tried to intervene. Lydia tried to catch me the second I got in, but Ryōma would literally wait for me to come in.

I didn't want to cause more trouble, so told Lydia I'd be fine. It was nothing; I could deal with it.

The advantage to Ryōma’s ' _interest_ ' in me was that I had lots of time to check the homicide case for Shuu Tsukiyama. Ryōma liked me near him, setting me up at the end of his desk. He liked sliding his paperwork over to me, stroking my hand or slipping his hand under my skirt.

I started wearing thicker tights, but he only did it more. He actually threatened me because of it.

It was terribly mortifying. I wanted to curl up and die every minute I was there.

But I had to just get on with it. Just box up my feelings and throw away the key.

If it meant I got more information on the case, then I guessed it was okay.

I scribbled notes down when people weren't looking. There were very few leads. The case had hardly progressed from the Nishimura scene.

From what I saw, they were looking back at the two suspects—Kate Raabe and Shuu Tsukiyama. By looking at Raabe, they were also looking into Oliver Gunnarson.

Gunnarson was a professor of law at Seinan and a few other universities. He was seemingly Raabe's only friend; he had two children, one of whom—Kirsten, aged seventeen—was in a wheelchair as Shuu Tsukiyama had said.

What was suspicious about the Gunnarsons was the lack of information on them. No other family, very vague details about their lives before Tokyo—they basically only knew that they were Swedish.

The swan/woman sticker was also being looked into, though they weren't getting anywhere at all.

I'd assumed the link between my ' _stalker_ ' case wouldn't be considered because it was so loose. However, it was being looked too—the link being Shuu Tsukiyama—who was the prime suspect in my case.

I had to relay all this to Shuu Tsukiyama, and I got the feeling he'd blame me for the suspicions around him. Well, I thought. I mean, he certainly wasn't happy, but he didn't blame me.

He just showed up at the station, demanding to talk to Pasha. I didn't see what happened, but Pasha said he wanted to _'clear the air'_ or something. Apparently, he brought his lawyer—which didn't help.

Whatever he wanted to do; it didn't help. If anything, it only made him look more suspicious.

Pasha was almost convinced it was him—so what could he do? He was a suspect either way. I pitied him, but there wasn't anything I could do, and if he was innocent, he shouldn't have been worried; should he?

Pasha and Yamamoto advised me to keep my distance from Tsukiyama, but this was something I couldn't quite do.

"Can't he find another trainer?" Yamamoto said. Pasha nodded.

I shook my head. "I cannot lose that job. I need the money—"

"Why do you need two jobs?"

_Three. It’s three jobs._

"Have you seen my pay? I don't even earn mi-mini-mum wage! I have to pay for school, my flat, my pets—all the other stuff. I need that job,"

"Why can't you work with a gym or school or something?" Pasha asked. "I'm sure they'd even let you do classes in our gym—"

"Are you serious? Those classes don't make anywhere near enough. Tsukiyama pays me loads, and hopefully he’ll go and tell his other rich friends about me, who will also pay me more. I need this job. Else I'll have to pick up at least two more and I'm already short on time,"

"Well, I can pay full rent if it helps—"

"It does not, and that is not fair anyway. I cannot lose this job—I need the money,"

"For someone who—" He trailed off. "Forget it,"

"You could work full-time," Yamamoto suggested.

"I don't have the time, want, nor qualification. Besides, it not like this job rakes it in,”

"Well, no," Pasha nodded.

Yamamoto looked confused. "I thought my pay was alright—"

"You are a researcher, of course you earn more,"

"I thought you were a sergeant,"

"No, I used to be. I'm sorry, did I tell you I was?"

"I think so...”

He shrugged. "Oh, sorry...I have to go. Sorry..." He walked off.

Pasha and I went back and forth trying to find an alternative. In the end, I did something I didn't really like, but I didn't have the energy to fight with him. I lied and said I would drop Tsukiyama and work for a gym.

I was certain he'd be suspicious, but he seemed to accept it pretty easily. I felt bad for lying, but I needed that money desparately.

The lie got even worse when about a day later; Shuu Tsukiyama asked me to do more work for him—as a yoga teacher. I would've refused, but the amount of money he offered per session made me slobber. With that amount, I wouldn't have to work in Shinjuku as much, or I could leave the station.

His first lesson went very well. He was more experienced than my usual students—and he was a lot better at yoga than lifting.

Afterwards, as I was putting everything away, he requested to speak to me outside. I went to one of the balconies and sat opposite him. We went through everything I knew about the cases—where he was concerned especially.

"You've got an awful lot of information suddenly," He'd said. "A few days ago you didn't have anything, what happened?"

"Nothing,"

"Don't lie,"

"”Does it matter?"

"Oh,"

"What?"

"You're upset. What did you do?"

"I'm not upset. It's nothing. It's here and that's what you wanted, right?"

"So touchy. I did strike a nerve, didn't I?"

I looked away. I didn't want to talk about it. I didn't want to think about it.

He sighed. "Oh, I've been meaning to apologise to you about something,"

"Apologise?"

" _Oui, oui_ ," He cleared his throat. "I wanted to apologise because I've been quite rude to you and that's not at all how a gentleman should act. Especially when you haven't _really_ done anything wrong,"

"OK. I mean, I found out quite a big secret of yours. I know how dangerous that must be for you, so I understand—"

"That doesn't make it any better, and I shouldn't disparage your career choices either,"

"Oh,"

"I'm sure it's a very mentally taxing career and the last thing you need is someone like _me_ making fun of _you_ ,"

I paused. "Okay..."

"Are you alright? Oh, gosh, don't tell me I've upset you again—"

"No, I'm fine. It’s getting late—"

"Tsukiyama!" Cried an unfamiliar voice from below the balcony.

I withheld a gasp. It was Genesis Slawter. She was dressed fabulously, her dark hair perfect. She stood below, looking up at us.

Tsukiyama mumbled something, before placing his hands on the railing. "You're early, _ma chérie_! How was mass?"

"Fine. I had the most wonderful idea—"

"Come on up then,"

She nodded and went inside. Tsukiyama looked at me. "Don't get starstruck; she hates it,"

"I was—I was just leaving,"

"Are we done?"

"Yes, unless you—"

"Well, I suppose you ought to leave. Genesis and I are organising our next party and I don't think you know anything about that,"

"I don't. I last went to a party when I was twelve,"

"What? Really? Goodness...Twelve?"

"Tsukiyama?" Slawter emerged from the balcony door. She was the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen—rich black hair, smooth olive skin, plump lips and oh...She was so skinny. I almost hated how skinny she was. I hated how I thought she was skinnier than me.

She smiled at me. "Oh, I didn't mean to interrupt,"

I blushed. "I was just, uh, going,"

She approached me and took my hand. "Genesis. I don't think we've met,"

"Uh, Charlotte...Fisher,"

"That's a pretty name. Where are you from?”

"She's English—"

"Welsh," I corrected.

"And you're Tsukiyama's new friend?"

"She's my trainer and yoga teacher, she was just leaving,"

I nodded. "Mhm,"

"You didn't tell me you had a new yoga teacher,"

"She's started today,"

I was eager to get away. It felt awkward and I wanted to get home and do schoolwork, before inevitably getting drunk and crawling back to Shinjuku.

Or I'd go home and sleep. I didn't care.

"I should go—" I started.

"You don't have to...If I interrupted anything—" Slawter began.

"You didn't. We've finished," Tsukiyama said. He gave me my money in cash—more than I'd been promised, I noted.

Slawter noticed. "How good are you?" She asked.

I went bright red. Tsukiyama answered for me. "She's fine, why?"

"Just out of curiosity, Miss Charlotte Fisher; would you teach a Catholic?"

"Uh...Yeah, how do—Cat-Caf-Cat...Never-mind. Is a yoga allowed for you?"

"It's condemned," Tsukiyama said.

"Oh,"

"It doesn't have to be," Slawter added.

"I'm sure I could...I'd have to do research—" I said.

"That's good. I was just asking, but here..." We exchanged cards before I made my excuses and left.

Pasha was walking the dogs when I got back. He'd taken to Mark rather well and the dog had near forgotten about me.

I sat alone in my room for a long time, staring at the floor, unable to move. I was thinking, thinking about why I was sat there doing nothing—that was so lazy, what would Mum think about that?

I let myself cry silently, before suddenly feeling aroused by a sudden coldness in my room. I didn't want to masturbate—I was disgusted by myself and I didn't want to touch myself. After what'd happened in Shinjuku, I never wanted to do it again.

But that money, and that feeling I got when I pleased someone, when they liked me, when they insulted me when they hurt me...When they wanted me.

I couldn't stay away. I couldn't. I couldn't help it. I needed to do it.

I hated it. I wanted it. I hated everything about it. I loved everything about it.

When I'd finished, I screamed and cried, before going to the bathroom. Why had I done that? Why was I like this? What was wrong with me?

I hated myself and I needed to hurt myself. I had to.

I deserved it. I did. I'd done something wrong. I was disgusting. I deserved it. I deserved to die.

I deserved it.


	21. Chapter 21

** Chapter 21 **

"Didn't you say you'd gotten surveillance for us?"

"Yeah,"

"...Where are they?"

"You are not supposed to—Oh.. They were parked just there a second ago. Maybe they went to get something to eat?"

"Because it's not like it's their job to stay there or anything,"

"I'll call them,"

I placed my head on the counter, and closed my eyes. Pasha had just got back from walking the dogs, I'd just finished my pole session, when I’d remembered he’d gotten police surveillance for us.

I let out a sigh and propped myself up. I continued with my schoolwork—now on insect conservation, my last topic before my final research project. I didn't mind it, I was just nervous about being able to do my master’s. I’d do my master’s at Seinan, not Oxford, as not only was online learning a chore, but Oxford didn’t do an entomology master’s.

Pasha hardly showed an interest in my work; he said he found it unsettling. Once, when watching me handle my cockroaches, he’d said; _‘It’s the legs—too many legs’_. Which I found rather pathetic.

On that day he took notice of what I was doing. Not because he was interested in insect conservation, but because he was trying to get me to talk to him about what'd happened the other night.

He asked about my work first. Then left me alone, before returning and offering me food, which I declined. I’d hardly eaten since the other night, I'd only been able to stomach alcohol or citrus fruit.

Pasha wouldn't leave it alone. He kept asking if I'd have vegetables and hummus or popcorn. I refused, getting more angry with each request until I locked myself in my room. He slept outside my bedroom door that night.

There was surveillance the next morning, though they weren’t doing a lot. I’d found a beautiful pink fountain placed outside the door that morning.

When I went to work that afternoon, Ryōma was practically waiting for me. I didn’t want to go anywhere near him, but I didn’t have a choice. He gave me work to do, putting his hand on my arse whilst he explained what I had to do.

Every-time he touched me I was reminded of what'd happened the other night. I didn't want to think about it ever again. Thinking about it was too tiring.

It'd happened before and it’d happen again. It happens to prostitutes all the time, no one else cared, why should I? I couldn't tell anyone about it for that very reason, and even then they’d just blame it on what I was wearing.

All I could do was suck it up. Deal with it. Move on. No matter how much I wanted to cry and scream about it—I just accepted it.

Pasha and Lydia noticed, or pretended too. Lydia began dragging me away from Ryōma, which was a relief. She let me go early sometimes so I could focus on my schoolwork and she never once tried to hurt or touch me. She asked about Ryōma sometimes, but I never said anything.

It was a bit suspicious, honestly.

_Does she expect something in return? What does she want from me?_

I wondered if she'd one day she’d turn round and say I owed her something.

For the time being, I decided to just accept her help, even if that did mean I didn't have as much information for Shuu Tsukiyama.

Though, after the original excitement of all the new information, I quickly realised that there wasn't actually a lot happening.

My ' _stalker_ ' had been quiet for a while too, and I wondered if maybe she'd left me alone. She’d do this a lot though, which was when the messages started.

I saw it when was starting a session with Shuu Tsukiyama. We were discussing his water intake and I had to do a calculation, so I couldn't ignore the long text message I'd received two hours earlier.

It was from an unknown number, and simply read; _'Alas my love, you do me wrong,_

_To cast me off discourteously;_

_For I have loved you so long,_

_Delighting in your company,'_

Original, I know, but that didn't make it any less terrifying.

I stared at the message for a long time, before letting out a shaky exhale.

Tsukiyama looked up. “ _Quoi_? Are you alright?"

I looked up. "Oh, yes. I just got this, uh, strange message is all,"

"Strange how?"

“It’s the first verse of Greensleeves,”

He shrugged. "It's probably just a wrong number. Nothing to worry about,"

"Could this be from her?"

"Of course it could be, but if it's only the one—"

"But it could be! She’s been in my house loads. She’s had access to my phone,"

"If you're that worried then tell your colleagues. Now, come on, I'm very busy,"

I put my phone away and tried to focus on the session. It seemed impossible, but I managed.

"Say," Shuu Tsukiyama asked on his rest. "You haven't researched all that Catholic yoga, have you?"

"For Genesis Slawter? A bit—" I replied.

"Oh, excellent!"

"Hm?"

"She adores yoga, but could never find anyone to suit it for her,”

"Woah, woah, woah—She didn't offer me a job—"

"She's desperate for a yoga teacher. She really likef you too. It’s because you’re about as thin as her—she likes that. You have to say yes,"

"I do?”

"You're not obliged, but given the fact you have three jobs—"

"I'll do it,"

"Great. I'll call her now—"

"No, you will not. You have four sets of push-ups left,"

"Oh, _bien sur_!"

"Single-arm, to failure, and I swear to God, if you do that worm-thing—“

“I won’t,"

After the session, he called Genesis and it was one of the weirdest conversations I've ever listened to.

"Well, that's wonder— _sérieusement_? She hasn't been to a party since she was twelve...I know," He laughed. "Actually," He looked to me. "I think she'd fit right in, with some work. I'll just ask—Oh, okay. _Ciao_ ," He smiled and put his phone down. "Genesis wants you to come to a party—tonight,"

"I'm sorry, what?"

"She'd like you there tonight. I'll have to pick you up. Be ready by sev—"

"I’m in Shinjuku tonight,"

"There'll be _plenty_ of work for you there. Trust me. Wear something Alice In Wonderland themed,"

"I'm sorry, but no,"

"No?"

"I have work,"

"You said. But if you want this job with Genesis, then you'd do well to show up, and I assure you, I’ll make sure there’s work for you there. Plenty of it,”

“Are you offering to be my pimp? Because every pimp I’ve ever had has been terrible,”

“I’m not your pimp. I’ll simply promote you. You’re naturally...” He searched for the word.

I rolled my eyes. “Blonde? Tall? European? Don’t say Aryan, because I swear to fuck—That term was completely stolen by the Nazis, which I am _not_ going to be associated with—”

“Don’t be absurd,” He paused. “I meant _exotic_. With natural hair that colour and thickness, pale skin and those doll-eyes of yours...You’re practically doing the work for me,”

I nodded. "OK. Fine. Only I don't have anything to wear,"

"I’ll get you something. Measurements?”

“Twenty-eight chest, nineteen point five waist, thirty hips...” I listed off each number by heart. I’d taken them yesterday and was desperately proud, as my diet of alcohol, coffee and citrus fruits had brought my weight to ninety-five point two pounds.

After writing it down, he’d said. “ _Parfait._ You’ll be easy to dress because you’re so thin and tall,” which made me feel proud and vain. “What’s your favourite colour?”

“Anything, really...though particularly I’ll wear anything pink or green,”

He’d nodded checked his watch and said he’d pick me up later.

I went home to study first. Whilst home, I received several calls from the same number that'd sent me the text. They didn't leave a message, and I was too scared to answer it. Ryōma sent me messages too, which I was forced to reply to. He liked sending me unsolicited dick pics, demanding I send some pictures back. I just sent him my Patreon, which he didn’t like at all.

Pasha didn't get back before I left. I knew he was talking to Oliver Gunnarson and Katherine Raabe today and I wondered if they'd find anything.

I left his dinner in the fridge with instructions, before checking on the animals and meeting Shuu Tsukiyama, who gave me a little white and pink dress with a bow just between my breasts, which were pushed up by my overly tight bra.

Wearing that dress made me feel calmer. I was still petrified of something happening to me again, but the dress made me feel less petrified.

_The Blue Caterpillar_ wasn't quite a club or bar, but it was _something_. There were wonky stairs and doors leading nowhere, the place was basked in a constant purple light and it cost 6600 per person to get in.

We passed through some wonky corridors that were decorated with cards, books and most interestingly; pinned insects. We came to a large, smoke-filled room with even more purple and blue light. There were several velvet sofas in the middle of the room. Hookahs were dotted around the room, which were being heavily used, giving off the stench of cannabis and tobacco.

I was in awe of the other outfits in the place. Shuu Tsukiyama’s caterpillar jacket was genius and Genesis Slawter wore a dress made completely out of cards.

Speaking of, Genesis Slawter pounced on me the second I walked in, greeting me as if we hadn't only met once.

I shuddered at her beauty. I wanted to touch her, to feel her skin against mine. To count her ribs and compare my waist to hers. I wanted to see if I could _possibly_ be better.

"You came!" She'd squealed, grasping my wrists. "Oh, I hoped you'd come," She smiled. Her eyes were frighteningly wide and glassy. "Does this mean you'll teach me? Oh, of course it does! Thank you, thank you, thank you!" She hugged me. "Come, come, come! You need a drink—"

"Now, Genesis," Tsukiyama stopped Genesis. "I'm not sure those would be appropriate for Charlotte,"

"Oh!" She looked at me. "They've got lean in them, is that OK?"

"Uh. God, no,"

"Coke?"

"No,"

"What do you do?”

“Alcohol,”

"Oh. How dull," She said, deflated. I felt bad for disappointing her. She looked up, eyes bright again, and jumped at the sight of a skinny man with round glasses and floppy hair. He was underdressed, wearing a black turtleneck and trousers.

"Dory! You took ages," Genesis cried, approaching the man, who rolled his eyes.

"Sorry,” He said. “Takamara started talking to me and I couldn't escape,"

I realised I recognised him. I remember him being on the cover of the magazine that Shuu Tsukiyama was normally on. I wondered if there was tension there.

The man gave me a side eye. "Who's this? You're new,"

Genesis hugged me to her side. "This is Charlotte. She's my yoga teacher,"

"Mine too, and my personal trainer," Tsukiyama butted in, pulling me away from Genesis. He did seem to be giving the man a look of contempt. "Charlotte's new to Tokyo. She's an academic—from England,"

"Wales," I sighed.

"Uhuh. Which university? What do you study?"

"Oxford. Though, I’m transferring to here,”

“Are you?” Tsukiyama asked. “When? Where?”

“Don’t interrupt her,” The man looked back to me. “Your major?”

“I’m a triple major. Entomology in zoology, English lit and foreign languages,”

“Them I'm sure you'll fit right in. Doryo Fuyuhiko, by the way,"

"Nice to meet you,"

_I've heard that name before._

Genesis nudged Doryo Fuyuhiko's shoulder. "I'm waiting,"

"Right, sorry, _your majesty_. Tsukiyama, you want one?" Fuyuhiko held a baggie of coke up.

"Goodness, no,"

"Charlotte?"

"She doesn't do drugs,"

"Suit yourself then,"

I turned to Tsukiyama. "Does that happen a lot?"

" _Oui_ , is that a problem?”

“No,”

"Charlotte!" Genesis called out, sniffing. "Come on," She pulled my hand. "You need a drink,"

"I'll have iced coffee," Tsukiyama called out.

"I wasn't talking to you,"

Genesis convinced me to do shots with her at the bar, before pulling me to dance with her. Though, sometimes she’d walk off, which is when I’d work.

When I returned, Genesis was eating. She ate a lot—I once saw her eat a whole cheesecake and a sushi platter. I’d have to help her throw it up later.

She'd seen me and giggled and danced around me. "Do you like poetry?" She asked. Her card dress had starting to fall and curl, her breasts almost uncovered.

"Not really," I said, watching her.

“Are you enjoying yourself?"

"Yes,"

"Good. That's so good..." She looked into my eyes and placed her head on my shoulder, "You're so beautiful,"

"Thank you,"

She stopped. "No, seriously. You're so pretty. Were you always so beautiful? Wow. That makes me hate you, Charlotte, you know? I hate you. Why are you so beautiful? That's not fair!" She giggled, resting her head on my shoulder. "But I love you,"

I stayed still. I didn't like her touching me so much, but I couldn't exactly tell her to fuck off. She was my boss and Tsukiyama's friend. Objecting could be social suicide.

I watched her compliment and insult me, before she began suddenly reciting from Leviticus. She dizzily wandered off again and later I saw her eating mushrooms.

I earned a lot of money that night. I even gave someone a private dance in the toilets.

It was all quite entertaining, really. I remember engaging in a lot of conversation about literature and film, especially with Fuyuhiko and Tsukiyama.

I found out who Fuyuhiko was—one of Tokyo’s youngest and most successful architects. He was also an infamous minimalist. He told me this in his car, because he drove me home instead of Tsukiyama.

I slept weirdly that night. I could've sworn that I felt another person's presence in the room—like there was breathing from under my bed. I felt like something was caressing and whispering to me. My bed was warm when I woke up. The window was open, where as it hadn’t been before.

I assumed it was Pasha, who else could it have been?

But then I saw the note in the kitchen from him.

It read; _‘Had to go and see my girlfriend—kinda serious. Asked officers outside to check on you every hour. Could you feed Kiwi for me? Thanks._ _’_

I flipped it over, seeing something more on the back. Maybe he’d come back or something.

I felt a chill right down my spine.

I cannot describe what was in it. I simply can’t.

I froze in place, my head swaying and legs buckling, and last night’s alcohol came up onto the floor.

As I was gasping for air, mouth burning with bile, I realised something else.

My phone was ringing.


	22. Chapter 22

** Chapter 22 **

“Uhm...Hello?” I waited.

“Charlotte,” Her voice was like ice—beautiful and cold.

“Hi,” I said, my heart pounding.

“Are you alright? You sound funny,”

“I was sick,”

“Oh, poor baby...Why?”

“Hangover,”

“Where were you last night? You weren’t in Kabukicho last night. I was waiting for you,”

“No...A, uh, friend, invited me out. I worked somewhere else,”

“Where?”

“I honestly cannot remember,”

Silence.

“Hello?” I asked.

“I found the men that raped you,”

I placed my hand on the counter, my head swaying. “What?”

“The other night. Those men. I saw what they did to you. I know where they live,”

“Oh,”

_What the fuck am I meant to say to this?_

“One has children. Can you believe that? What kind of par—It’s a girl too. Cute kid,”

“Where are you?”

“They have a record too. So many whores have reported them and...nothing,”

“OK...What are you gonna do?”

“I don’t know yet. Sorry. I had to needed to hear your voice. Did you get my texts?”

“Huh? No. My phone’s terrible. I need a new one,”

“What phone do you have?”

“I don’t know—a HTC? It was the only pink one. I got it two years ago,”

“Yeah...You need a new phone,” She paused. “I like your goldfish. She’s pretty,”

“Thanks,”

There was a noise. A male voice in the background speaking a foreign language. I only heard a bit, but he sounded young—teenaged.

I heard her sigh and snap something back in Swedish—which I speak. She let out a sigh.

“You’re Swedish?” I asked.

Silence. “That doesn’t matter. I have to go,”

“Ok...Can I ask a weird question?”

“Quickly,”

“What’s your name? I don’t like not knowing,”

“It’s not important,”

“Please. Just give me something to call you,”

“Uh...Fine. Katherine. Like Katherine Howard,”

I paused, think of the bookshelf in my room. I loved Katherine Howard. She was my favourite wife, (along with Anne of Cleves). I had tons of books on her.

I gulped and swallowed. I went to speak, but found that she’d hung up. I didn’t like calling her Katherine. I changed it to Anna. It was much less personal.

I put my phone down and stared at nothing, trying to compute what’d just happened. I only stopped when Pasha came in.

He apologised and asked if anything had happened. I lied. He couldn’t do much about it anyway. He began talking about his new girlfriend and I tried to pay attention.

“What’s wrong?” He’d asked.

“Hm?”

“You look ill. Did something happen again?”

“No...”

“Don’t lie. Come on. Something happened, didn’t it?”

I paused. “I think she was here again,”

“Your stalker?”

“I think she slept with me last night. My bed was warm and my history books weren’t in the right places, and...” I held my head. “There was this note,”

He read it. “Christ...Fucking hell. Jesus—Right. We cannot stay here anymore. Get packing,"

"What? No. I told you; I can't—"

"Charlotte, it's a fucking fish—"

"So what?"

He went to speak, before inhaling like he was in pain. He smiled. "Charlotte, what is it about this goldfish that's so special? If you tell me, I might understand,"

_He'll just laugh at me. Just like everyone else._

I scoffed. "You’ll just think I’m stupid,”

“I won’t. I swear. What’s with the fish?”

I shrugged. “I didn’t have friends when I was a teenager. I could only ever talk to Trev...and my toys. You would not get it, but she listens to me. She doesn’t judge me. She loves me and I love her,”

“See? That was not hard. And I’m not laughing, am I?”

“I guess not...”

“Go on. I’ll go and tell work what’s happening and find somewhere for you to go,”

I hesitated. “Sure. Thanks,”

I ended up staying with Lydia, who volunteered to have me and my zoo immediately. Pasha stayed with his girlfriend.

"I'll be fine," He'd repeated. "Will you be OK?"

"I think...I hope. Just...Be safe, Pasha,"

"And you. I'll see you at work later, yeah?"

At work, Ryōma was particularly pervy that day. The second I got in he was on me, taking me into the disabled toilets and made me give him a blowjob. It was disgusting, and after he was done he left me to vomit in the toilet.

"Fisher, is that you in there?" Himari snapped, forcing the door open. She rolled her eyes. "This is the disabled toilet, you know,"

I choked, only vomiting more.

"I know you're autistic or whatever, but you don't _need_ the disabled toilet,"

It was just acid coming up now, and it was so painful. But it felt good. Ryōma immediately had me do his paperwork, laughing when Himari told everyone where I'd been.

"Grow up," Pasha had snapped, walking in with coffee. "You okay?"

"Fine, thank you,"

"Where's Morimine? I need to see him,"

"I'm here. What's up?"

"It's about the sticker. I found where it's from,"

"Fuck. Uh, okay—"

"Fisher; out," Himari snapped.

I stood, but Ryōma placed his hand my back, stroking my back dimples. "She's busy in here, actually,"

"Doing your work," Pasha snapped.

"She's not bothering—"

"For fuck's sake, Sorokin—what'd you find?" Himari snapped.

"Right, so Yamamoto came to me about this image being like a...A double-image, if you will. It's a woman and a swan, and someone mentioned that being a possible link to Swan Lake—the ballet. So, it took me a while, but I looked into it and I think I found something,"

"OK, what?"

"The image belonged to a ballet company that was active in Sweden until twelve years ago actually—it all went quiet in June of 2000 after some kind of incident,"

" _Incident_?"

"It's hard to find anything hard. I still have to go through all the newspaper articles,"

"Ballet troop, right? Could've been something to do with an eating disorder or something? An accidental death, perhaps,"

"Right,” Morimine nodded. “So, what's this got to do with our killer?"

"From what I found, the company was most famous for Swan Lake— _obviously_ —and they were pretty global, it seems. But a lot of the girls had tattoos. In pictures they'd have this symbol—this swan-woman. Often it'd be on the hip—somewhere discreet,"

"Why?"

"I could not find that. It might have been like a friendship thing?”

"Are there pictures of the girls?"

"Yeah, here," I peeked over and saw a few pictures of groups of skinny little things with beaming smiles. A few of them were showing off their new tattoos.

"I'm sure there are more photos," Pasha continued. "But their site has not been touched in years. The domain name's probably about to expire,"

"So all the contact info—"

"Probably defunct, but I'm gonna call some other companies in Sweden, maybe they might give us a lead,"

"Okay, good work. You speak Swedish?"

"No, but...I speak English—"

"I speak Swedish," I said, raising my hand. Ryōma’s breath was hot on my neck. Everyone was looking at me.

"Yeah, sure," Himari scoffed.

"No, really. It's not as good as my Japanese, but I speak Swedish,"

"That's perfect," Pasha said. "Ryōma, you will have to find someone else to work with. Come on, Charlotte,"

"Uhm, Pasha?"

"Hm?"

"It's three in the morning in Sweden. Seven hours behind,"

"Oh, right...So that's..."

"We'll have to start at about half three, if that works,"

"It'll take me a while to find any companies anyway. Why don't we do it tomorrow? You are busy today anyway, yes?"

"Oh...yes,"

"I bet she is," I heard Ryōma mumble.

I was actually really busy that day. I had my usual load and my session with Genesis Slawter—which went fine. Only Genesis insisted I go shopping with her, which I initially refused.

We went to Genesis insisted on buying me whatever I wanted. It was quite embarrassing, but I can't say I disliked it.

She didn't even like the clothes I picked. "Charlotte, why do you dress like that? It's shameful,"

"It makes me feel good,"

She looked away and picked up a fluffy pink coat. "You'd look gorgeous in this. Pink's perfect for you,"

"I do like pink—"

"Oh! Well, _bonjour, mesdames_!" Shuu Tsukiyama appeared.

"Tsukiyama!" Genesis had cried. "I should've known you'd be here!" She turned to me. "He's always around, isn't he? You're everywhere. It's creepy. I'd like you to stop it,"

"Stop what?"

"Following me. You're always there. Wherever I go. I don't like it. It's like you're stalking me,"

_Wouldn't surprise me, honestly._

"Genesis, don't be so ridiculous. I've better things to do than follow you all day,"

"Like what? Are you calling me boring?"

"No offence, _chérie_ , but you spend most of your days sleeping. Besides, I'm here with _Monsieur_ Fuyuhiko—he's supposed designing one of our projects, and I want him to build my new guesthouse,”

"But you hate Fuyuhiko because he won the magazine cover—”

“I don’t hate him at all,”

"He only got on the cover because he's gay and ugly so everyone thinks he's the next Andy Warhol,"

"Oh, Gen, that’s not very nice," Fuyuhiko said, walking in.

Genesis shrugged. "It's true. Anyway, Tsukiyama, I think Charlotte would look good in this coat,"

"Oh, absolutely. _C'est parfait_. Hm, maybe it'd go with...aha! This, don't you agree?"

"Uhm, I—"

"I think that's perfect. Maybe this dress would go too?"

"Oh, absolutely,"

"Why can't Charlotte decide what she wants to wear?" Fuyuhiko asked.

"She can," Tsukiyama said. "We're just choosing a few outfits for her,"

"Charlotte, do you want to wear that?"

"Don't patronise her,"

"I wasn't—"

"She's not a child,"

"I wasn't saying—For fuck’s sake—Charlotte?"

"Uh, yes,"

"See? She's fine with it,"

"I'm hungry," Genesis said, "And I'm bored,"

"Oh, sorry, Gen," Fuyuhiko snapped. "We'll just all stop what we're doing because you're bored,"

"Exactly. Tsukiyama, could you please pay for this? I'll give you the money,"

"How old are—"

"I wasn't talking to you,"

"Of course I will, you go," Tsukiyama turned to me. "You stay, I need you to try something on,"

"Uh, sure,"

"Fuyuhiko, I'm taking Charlotte to the bookstore after this, if you’re interested. You might want to prepare for our competition,"

"Competition?"

"It’s this stupid reading competition they do," Genesis said.

“It’s not stupid,” Fuyuhiko protested. “And Tsukiyama, you know I don’t buy things,”

“What?”

“He’s a minimalist. That’s why he wears the same thing everyday. It’s creepy,”

“It’s practical. It means I can focus on my art. Speaking of, I’m having a get-together tonight—if you two wanted to come,”

I paused. Tsukiyama nudged me. “You’d like Fuyuhiko’s house. You should see his aquariums,”

“Aquariums? You have fish?”

“Aquascaping’s a hobby of mine,”

“Sure, I’ll go,”

Fuyuhiko took Genesis to get food and I followed Tsukiyama around.

“What’s your style, Charlotte?” He’d asked. “What do you like wearing?”

I shrugged. “I like revealing clothes, I like anything that’s pink. I really like pink. I’ll wear anything girly,”

“Well, there are plenty of pink things for you to wear. You’ll need special fittings, we can’t have you in children’s clothes, can we?”

“I like them, actually. They are cute,”

“Oh. You’re one of those girls,”

“Sorry?”

“ _Pardon._ That was rude of me. I can’t remember what it’s called, a babydoll?”

“I don’t know. I like dark things too—blood and guts—anything with animals. I’m kinda into guro,”

He smiled. “We’ll find you something. Oh, I meant to say. I got you an appointment with my hair specialist. Hair like yours needs special attention, I thought,”

“Thanks,”

“And I’ve got some skin products for you. You have a little acne, I see,”

“Yes, that’s great...Thanks. Only, who’s paying?”

“Me,”

"Oh, no, I could never—"

"Oh, _tais-toi_ ," He brushed me away. "Do you have the money?"

"Well, no—"

"See?”

“And the clothes?”

“Of course. Like I’d let you carry on wearing _that_ ,”

"What's wrong with my clothes?"

"They're secondhand, _chérie_ ,"

"It’s better for the environment, and you can get loads of vintage stuff. See this clown jumper? It’s not even on Google,"

"That’s a good point, but you can still have new clothes, and you're not some downtrodden prostitute anymore—so there's no need to dress like a seven-year-old whose father abandoned you in a car park,"

"But my dad did abandon me in a car park. When I was nineteen,"

"Oh, no, I’m sorry. _Pourquoi_?” He touched my arm.

"I got a girlfriend. He said I was a disgrace and that I was not welcome back until I sorted myself out,"

"A homophobe, charming," He sighed. "That can't have been pleasant, _je suis désolée_. Anyway—you want people to want you, don't you?"

"Yes,"

"So you have to dress like it. We need you to look like everyman's dream, _oui_?"

“I'd like that,"

" _Bien sûr._ So, we need you looking sensual, not just sexual, you see?"

"You. Don't. Need. To. Talk. To. Me. Like. A. Child. OK?"

"My apologies. Moving on. See, this pink coat is perfect. It's fake, which is cheaper, but—"

"It's classy,"

"Exactly. Now, we can pair this with anything, so..."

He bought me so much stuff that day—I felt kinda awkward about it. Genesis and Fuyuhiko had left when we'd finished, so Tsukiyama proposed we walk to Fuyuhiko’s through the park.

As we walked, I took the opportunity to pry.

“I like you,” I said. “You’re quite fascinating,”

Tsukiyama had looked at me and chuckled. “Well, you’re fascinating too,”

“Do you like me?”

He didn’t say anything for a while. “You intrigue me,”

“But do you like me?” I stopped. “I want you to like me,”

“I like you—you’re very interesting, like I said,”

“Do you think I’m pretty?”

“You’re beautiful, you know that,”

“I can’t even remember what I look like, all I know is sometimes my appearance makes me want to fuck myself and sometimes it makes me want to die,”

“I believe that’s dysmorphia,”

“No...Do you want to fuck me?”

He stopped then. “What?”

“Do you want to have sex with me?”

He stared at me for a bit. “I don’t know yet,”

“Sorry. You’re not gay, are you? Only, I know you and Fuyuhiko had a thing, but I just...I need to know what you want from me,”

“You think I want sex from you? You’re sorely mistaken,”

“Then what do you want?”

“What do you mean?”

“You just bought me loads of expensive stuff, you’re promoting me for free, you have gotten me jobs, you’re being nice to me and I know you were going to kill me. I want to know what you want from me. Why have you not killed me yet? After I found out what you were? Why are you doing all this?”

“Not for sex,”

“Then what?”

“I just find you interesting. When you find something interesting, what do you do?”

I paused. “I learn as much about it as possible, write an essay, and tell everyone I can, before working out for three hours because I got so excited about it,”

“OK, well I don’t quite do that, but I just want to learn about you. Yes, I could’ve killed you, I wanted to...At first, I’d thought you’d do it yourself, but you didn’t and then you started to intrigue me,”

“Does that mean I’m safe?”

“Safe?”

“Yeah, like...I kinda have a stalker, and I don’t really want something else to worry about. So, as long as I’m interesting, you won’t kill me, right?”

“I suppose so,”

“Right...Sorry. That was weird,”

I looked to the floor and stayed mostly quiet. At least now I knew why Shuu Tsukiyama hadn’t killed me yet. I mean, I knew being his trainer would buy me time, but there were millions of better trainers out there, so I was disposable.

But apparently, it was because I was _interesting_ , whatever that meant.

I didn’t know why I was _interesting_ , I just knew I had to maintain it. Surely, it would be easy? I just had to keep doing my thing and I’d be fine.

Right?

Well, no, I had absolutely no faith in myself. I knew I’d fuck it up, because I always— _always—fuck things up._


	23. 23

** Chapter 23 **

I didn’t know what made me appealing to Shuu Tsukiyama, but I thought I could maintain it.

My job was to get people interested in me. If one interest failed, surely I could produce another?

Failing that, if I could keep Genesis happy, then I’d be safe because she’d throw a fit without her shiniest toy.

That was all I had to do. Keep Genesis and Tsukiyama happy, no matter the cost.

This method gave plenty of rewards for me too. Often in the form of expensive shopping sprees or day trips, or bumping up my reputation. Sometimes I was given physical gifts, often before yoga sessions. Genesis enjoyed this especially, and I specifically remember being gifted vintage dresses and jewelry—all straight from her personal wardrobe.

I refused the gifts at first, but soon adapted to accepting without hesitation.

My relationship with Genesis and Tsukiyama remained in the dark at the time. I knew Fuyuhiko was my friend, we frequently met for coffee or spin classes and our relationship needed no clarification.

Genesis was more of a mystery. She’d call me her best-friend and tell me how she loved me, how beautiful I was, how I must’ve been an angel sent to protect her. But two seconds later she’d say something like: “I hate you. You’re skinnier than me, you’re prettier than me, you dance better than me. I hate you, Charlotte Fisher, you torment me. Why do you do that? Do you find it funny? Perhaps you were not sent by the Lord, but by Lucifer. Are you a succubus? I bet you are! Succubus!”

And then she’d repeat.

When she was sober, however, she seemed to like me. She stared at me a lot, but that wasn’t unusual and Fuyuhiko said, “She’s obviously gay, but too Catholic to admit it. She’s totally crushing on you,”

Which had led to Shuu Tsukiyama rolling his eyes and scoffing. “She’s not. Please, you don’t give her enough credit, just because she’s Catholic—”

“I’ve heard it before. You’re like a broken record,”

“Is she homophobic?” I asked.

“Yeah,”

“No,” Tsukiyama turned to me. “Charlotte, dear, the Bible never condemned homosexuality—that’s just a misconception,”

“Really?”

“I believe it’s in Leviticus somewhere— _‘You shall not lie with a man as a woman, that is abomination’—_ but I read a different edition that claimed men should not lie with a _boy_ ,”

“Like pedophilia?”

“See? It’s all about translation, and if she was that homophobic, she wouldn’t be around any of us,”

I nodded—all three of us were LGBTQ, though Genesis and Fuyuhiko didn’t always get on, their arguments centered more on Fuyuhiko’s obsession with Greek myth.

  
It was that same night when my relationship with Shuu Tsukiyama received clarification, though an unexpected one.

It’d been a party at Fuyuhiko’s house. He was a minimalist, so after staring at his aquariums, I quickly got bored and went to find someone to fuck or talk to.

I found Shuu Tsukiyama in the garden by Fuyuhiko’s swimming pool that was now a koi pond. I sat on the pond side, peering in at the fish.

“Hi,” I said, shivering and pulling my coat up. Tsukiyama glanced at me and nodded. I looked up to see what he was looking at. “What are you—Sorry,” My phone bleeped. I went to put it on silent and saw the text was from _Anna_. It read: _where r u???_

I almost choked. I turned my phone off and put it back in my bag, swallowing the bile rising in my throat.

“Everything alright?” Tsukiyama asked, not looking at me.

“Uh, yeah,” I said, trying not to think about the messages I’d be bombarded with when I turned it back on. “Are _you_ OK? You looked kinda out of it,”

“I was just looking at the sky. It’s never normally this clear,”

I looked up. “Huh, it’s beautiful,”

“You used to live rurally, I bet you’ve seen some gorgeous skies in your time,”

I shrugged. “I didn’t really go out at night...”

_**August, 2004.** _

“Uh, it was really cold. I remember seeing a space station once though, that was cool,”

“How wonderful,”

“But, uh, the best skies I ever saw were when I was in Zimbabwe. God, they were...They were so much better than anything in Wales or, well, they were way better than that up there,”

“Tell me more, _s’il te plaît_ ,”

I blushed at how friendly that was. I didn’t know if our relationship had stretched that far. “Are we friends?” I asked.

He blinked, then laughed. “What?”

“Are you my friend, Tsukiyama? Or are you just _interested_ in me?”

He smiled. “Humans and ghouls aren’t friends, it’s _sale_ ,”

“Not unless you eat me,” He laughed again. “No. Seriously, why can’t you be my friend? I told you, I don’t care that you’re a ghoul, I don’t even care about you killing me anymore,”

“We’re different species, dear, we don—”

“My best friend’s a goldfish,”

“Okay, fair,”

“Also, are Fuyuhiko and Genesis ghouls? Because I know you’ve shagged Fuyuhiko multiple times—”

“He’s not my friend, he’s my architect,”

“And your toyboy, apparently. Genesis?”

“She’s not a situation I wish to discuss,”

“Fine, what about me? Why can’t I be your friend? You like me, don’t you?”

“Yes, I do,”

“So?” I then realised how desperate and lonely I was coming across and wanted to backtrack. Before I could, Tsukiyama began to speak again.

“You’re more like my pet, _Chérie_ , my pet cat,”

I blinked. “Oh. I didn’t realise you were into that...Are you gonna pay me? What do you want me to do?”

He looked at me, puzzled, before gasping. “No, no! Not like that. I meant that I see you as a pet, not a friend,”

“But pets are friends,”

“To you,”

“Do you have any friends? That are not _pets_?”

He paused. “ _Bien sur_ ,”

“Ok. So...I’m just a pet. Okay,”

“What? You’re uncomfortable?”

“No, just...My ex-boyfriend used to...There was this time when—”

_**August, 2004.** _

_‘You’re such a cute little kitty. Come here, little kitty-cat, come to daddy,’_

_‘Here, kitty, kitty, don’t hide, I can hear you,’_

“Uh, sorry. It’s not important,” I sniffed and wiped my eyes.

“You’re crying. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you,”

“It’s fine. Just me being silly,”

He placed a hand on my shoulder, why I instinctively shoved off. He paused and I prayed I hadn’t upset him. He eventually let out a sigh, and took his jacket off.

I froze up.

_No. Not him. Not him too._

I wanted to run, but couldn’t. I felt like a rabbit in a snare, and I was reminded of my favourite film— _Watership Down._

“No,” I mumbled.

He looked over. “Hm? Oh, would you care join me? It might help you calm down,”

“What?”

“I’m going swimming,”

“Where? In there?”

“Yes,”

“But that’s dirty,”

He laughed. “Fuyuhiko doesn’t know the meaning of the word,”

I hesitated, watching him undress. “It looks cold,”

“You’re cold? Then don’t come in,”

I watched him enter the water, the koi gently moving aside. I pouted—I wanted to swim with koi too. Tsukiyama looked back at me. “It’s _magnifique_ , you know,”

“Looks it,” I sighed.

“The sky looks nicer in here too,” He looked at me. “ _Allez_ , it’s very relaxing and you’re still upset,”

I looked at the water. It wouldn’t be so so bad if I died of hypothermia, I supposed. I removed my clothes quickly and slipped into the water. Iplaced my hands on my ribs, counting them and focused on pranayama.

Tsukiyama was right, it was more beautiful in there, and I wasn’t thinking about August 2004 anymore.

“I was right, wasn’t I?” Tsukiyama said, proudly.

“It’s still fucking freezing,”

“I’m not cold at all,” He looked up at the sky and breathed deeply. “You don’t believe in God, do you?”

“No. I’m a nihilist, why? Do you? Only I know your school’s Catholic,”

“I wouldn’t exactly say I believe in God, but I can’t say I’m not religious. I have my devotions,”

“Devotion is not inh-in-en-inherently religious,”

“I suppose not,” He looked back at the sky. I watched him closely, my teeth beginning to chatter. He turned back to me. “Tell me, do you think there’s life up there?”

“Like, aliens? I think it’s possible,”

“Some people think ghouls are aliens, isn’t that hilarious?”

“Why? It could be true,”

“Sorry?”

“Well, I've only done a little research on ghouls but nothing about you adds up scientifically. You can only eat flesh—which in itself is possible—but you should be able to consume more than one mammal. If you could only eat one thing, then natural selection would have done its job ages ago. Then there's the whole ' _kagune_ ' issue, which I don’t know enough about to come to a conclusion about. So, for now, I can name you a Humanoid Abomination,”

“Abomination? I quite like that,”

“Really?”

“I’m used to much crasser terms,”

I scoffed. “From who? Your ghoul friends?”

He paused and I worried I’d overstepped my line. He smiled. “Mostly,”

I stared at him. “Do you have many ghoul friends?”

“We’re brave tonight, aren’t we?”

“Do you?”

He laughed. “Most of them are far too unmannered and degenerative—most can’t even speak proper Japanese—I’ve little interest in people like that,”

“Why can’t they speak?”

“Because they’re uneducated, dear,”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. I managed it just fine. Most of them are just pathetic—Scared of being caught out, I suppose,”

“What happens when the CCG catches a ghoul? I know it’s bad, uh, for you, but the news is really vague. I assume it’s testing? To find a food product?”

He stared at me for a bit, then burst into laughter. “Oh, you naive little _kitten_! You’re adorable,”

“What? I don’t understand,”

“To think, I actually considered you a threat! When you don’t even know what they do—Aha! This is hilarious,”

“Do they not do anything bad? Prison?”

“Charlotte, _chérie_ , God, no. No, no, _non_. They’re not police officers,”

“But I thought they were? That’s what I was told,”

“They’re glorified executioners,”

“What? But—”

“They’re vile,”

“But you’re only eating to survive...And your only known food is us. Why are they not trying to find more food for you? I mean...Why would they do that? How are they allowed to do that? Is it regulated?”

“I don’t know,”

“But...They can’t do that. That’s cruel!”

“Aha! You’re crying!”

“Because it’s cruel! That’s not fair. They can’t kill you for existing, that’s not fair,”

“You’re a very empathetic human, aren’t you? Though, it makes you seem a little naive,”

“It’s not naive to be against unregulated slaughter. It’s not like ghouls are killing people for the sake of it, is it?”

He didn’t say anything.

I sighed. “Well, there’s always the odd few, but humans are no different,”

“Why don’t you stick to what you know— watching mantises and chasing butterflies?”

“And let this cruelty continue?”

“You can’t even defend yourself from a single person, how exactly do you plan on tackling a government-led organisation?”

I paused, he was right. “Someone has to do something about it,”

“But _you_ can’t,”

“I could stir opinions. It’s so easy nowadays with the internet—”

“They arrest humans for that, having such a close relationship to the police—you’d be arrested, probably institutionalised, and they’d bring all of us into it, so Genesis would crack, then she’d bring me with her, and that’s my family and our associates—think of all the damage you could end up doing,”

“I want to help,”

“There’s nothing to do. Just leave it, everyone else does,”

“Well, I disagree,”

“That’s fine, just don’t do anything. You’ll end up ruining everyone else and I’d hate to dispose of my new pet after so soon,”

I stopped, eventually nodding. I made my excuses and left without another word.

It was hard to explain how I felt. I was upset, obviously, but there wasn’t anything I could do. I felt obliged to do something, but what was the point if it could only hurt others?

It was better to seethe in silence, as much as I hated it. Speaking of which...The second I arrived at work the next day, Ryōma pulled me into the bathroom.

I cried as he did it. I begged him not to, though I didn’t have a choice. I quickly stopped fighting and let him carry on. I cried in the bathroom afterwards. I just wanted to go home and sleep.

I was ashamed, and I knew going out there would mean more attention from Ryōma. I stayed there for a while, thinking about how I needed the money, but also about how I couldn't keep doing this.

"Charlotte, sweetie? Are you in here?" Eventually, Lydia came to get me. I waited for her to leave, but she didn't. "Sweetie, Pasha needs you for something. I know you're in there,"

I accidentally made an audible sob and I heard Lydia make another noise. "Charlotte, sweetheart, are you crying?" She knocked on the door. "Come on, let's talk about this. I think it's gotten out of hand,"

I reluctantly opened the door and accepted her affections. She took me to her office with Pasha and the two coaxed me into telling them how Ryōma treated me.

Pasha seemed reluctant to touch me, only telling me that it wasn't my fault and that Ryōma's actions were completely inappropriate, even after I sparingly explained why he was doing it to me.

"That's blackmail, Charlotte," He'd said. "And it's sick. We are going to the chief—"

"No! Please. I don't want that,"

"Charlotte, no, this is out of hand and it will not carry on. Right, Lydia?"

Lydia nodded. "Mhm. Only..."

"What?"

"I don't mean to offend, but...Maybe you could try covering up more?" Lydia smiled gently.

Pasha looked up. "What?"

"Well, Charlotte does have her...style—"

"She dresses like a ten-year-old,"

"Yes, and Charlotte, you wear shorter skirts with no tights and you don't always do your blouse up...And we've all seen what you wear in the gym—practically nothing,"

"Are you kidding?" Pasha snapped. "It's not her fault!"

"You know what men are like. They can't always control themselves,"

"How is that her fault? Yeah, most men get a boner every now and then, but that doesn't mean we can just touch women willy-fucking-nilly," Pasha took my hand. "Lydia, could you leave? I don't think you are the best person to deal with this,"

"And you are?"

"I do not slut-shame, so yes. Come on, Pigeon," He pulled me out.

"Pasha, please," I protested. "I don't want to talk about this today. Can we just talk to the dance companies now?"

He paused. "Fine. Tomorrow then,"

My mind was elsewhere that day, so my Swedish was a little off. However, I held myself well and didn't mistranslate that much.

After a few failures, I eventually reached a company that knew something about the _Sockerägg_ dance company.

There was a silence, as though the woman I was speaking to was thinking. “God, that's—" She spoke to another person. "OK. Sorry about that,"

"Is everything okay?"

"I don't really know a lot about it. No one does—it was all very private,"

"What?"

"You said you were with police, don't you know?"

"Not the Swedish police, ma'am. I'm with the Tokyo police department,"

"Tokyo? Why so far away?"

"We are just looking into something. Could you explain what happened? And when?"

"It was about millennia time. I wasn't that old, so I can't really remember much but...Urgh. I don't know to put this,"

"Just tell me,"

"The owner—I think—of the company, two of his girls went missing and it came out that he...He was this pedophile and he'd murdered the poor thing. They never found one, but they found him with the other’s body—God knows how many more he killer,”

"Who was he?"

"RThey probably took his name of the website—Hugo something. The guy was a total weirdo. He claimed he wasn't guilty too—like, really? They found him knife in hand, covered in her blood—"

"Can you remember the victim's names? Surnames?"

"No, I think one began with M though. Sorry. God, that’s awful, isn’t it?”

"You said he pleaded not guilty?"

"Yeah. I remember he made up some story about this girl stalking him—forcing him to have sex with him and that it was her,"

"Stalking?"

"Yeah. But the girl was only like, sixteen, and she was a ballerina, so what was she gonna do?"

"And you definitely don't remember her name?"

"No, sorry,"

"They never found a body? Ever?"

"No. They found something of hers—she was presumed dead, I know,"

"What about the other girl? Where was she found?"

"In his house,"

"Where's that?"

"I don't know,"

"Is this man still alive?"

"I think. The whole thing was kept kinda quiet. The company shut down not long after. I think the guy's son had something to do with it,"

"Son?"

"Yeah. Might've been daughter. Anyway, I don't really remember. Try Gotenburg...Or actually, Kumla might be better, though, the Royal Sweden's got to know something,"

I thanked her and finished, turning to Pasha and explained everything. He wrote it all down before we continued. When ringing Kumla we found something more.

"You mean the Cygnet case? I know the one,"

"The _Cygnet_ case?"

"It was an odd one,"

"Odd?"

"Yeah, just something didn't feel right about it. It felt like something was being held back. You know?”

"Can you remember anyone involved?"

"Hugo Bergström. That was the guy that did it. I think one of the girls was called Marin...Yes. Marin Sandberg,"

"Marin Sandberg and Hugo Bergström. Got it. The other victim?”

"Lyra. It was Lyra. She was this blonde little thing, and she had these beautiful green—like bright green—eyes. You could see why someone would get so attached, the girl was gorgeous,"

"Can you remember her surname?"

"I don't think it was ever revealed. I don't even know if Lyra was her real name. That's just what the papers said,"

"Did the murder take place in Kumla?"

"That was what made it odd. Lyra's body is supposed to be in the river in the big park, but the police swept the whole thing—never found anything. I mean, it's a big river—or pond—but they said they searched it,"

I thanked her for her help and turned to Pasha, who was googling the case. He pursed his lips.

"What?" I asked.

"Nothing. I found the case. That's Hugo Bergström,"

I looked and saw an attractive man of about forty. He had greying blond hair and a lean figure. "Found anything on—"

"He looks like Oliver Gunnarson," Pasha interrupted. I compared the image of Oliver Gunnarson to Hugo Bergström.

"I'm not good with faces...He's way to—The son! She said Bergström's son had something to do with shutting the company down...do you think—"

"Makes sense. Then he moved here with his kids and changed his name. He probably did not want anything to do with it,"

"Who's the kids' mother?"

"She died—cancer—apparently,"

" _Apparently_ ,"

"We did not look into it,"

"Oh,"

"I will now though. This is the girl that was murdered. Marin Sandberg,"

I winced. The photo was of a happy looking girl with long dark hair and a long, distinct mouth filled with brilliant white teeth. "Pretty," I said, looking at her height and trying to estimate her weight.

"Poor thing," Pasha sighed. "God, this shit makes me sick. She was fourteen—stabbed thirty-two times,"

"Must have been personal. The other victims were stabbed, right?"

"Some, but all multiple times. It could be the same killer,"

"What about the girl that went missing? Lyra. She said her body was—" I froze, looking at the picture of a new girl on the screen.

"This is Lyra. No surname. Another pretty—Are you OK?"

"That's her,"

"You recognise her?"

"She's the woman that's stalking me,"

—————

**Hi. It’s your author here.**

**I don’t normally make notes, but I felt it necessary to update readers on some changes.**

**Due to just general planning and style decisions, certain plot points, scenes and characters that were set to have subplots have been removed.**

**I feel awful about this, having made you read scenes for characters that now don’t serve any purpose, and those scenes will eventually be removed.**

**I’ll explain the future of this story at a later date.**

**I’d also like to apologise for any drops in quality recently. My mental health’s really taken a dip as of late and I feel like a mess. I hope you can understand.**

**Here’s an obligatory Instagram plug:**

**You can find more info on this story’s development or characters on my Instagram page:**

**‘@stephpencils’**

**I also post a lot about other subjects and I post pictures of my cute hamster—so it’s a win-win.**

**Sorry for this interruption, and thank you for reading!**


	24. 24

**Chapter 24**

"Pasha. That's her. I'm telling you, that's her—"

"Charlotte, calm down. Breathe—fuck. What is it, Ryōma?"

"I need Fisher,"

"Get Tatsugami to do it," Pasha shrugged.

"My paperwork's piling up—"

"Best start doing it then,"

Ryōma grumbled. "Morimine wants to talk to you. Gunnarson's here, I think,"

Pasha nodded.

"Thanks," I said when he was gone.

Pasha smiled and turned to me. "It's fine. Anyway, listen, I'm going to find out as much as I can about this Lyra girl. I'll do Gunnarson first—ask him about it—and then I swear I will do it, OK?"

"OK. OK...Shit. That’s her. I’m sure. Fuck. We found her,”

“Yes, and I’ll look into it. I promise, just calm down,”

“Ok. Sure...Uh. Oh! Do you want me to stay? Gunnarson might feel more comfortable in his native language,"

"You have to go somewhere?"

"I've got my clients and I need to meet with a gym about hosting my classes,"

"Oh, right. That's good for you, but you go now. If I need you I'll call,"

"Are you sure? You’ll be okay? And I'm in Edogawa tonight,"

  
“Okay. It’ll be fine, just go to your meeting, I’ll call you,”

  


I said goodbye and went about my day. I was anxious, and ended up telling Fuyuhiko everything over coffee, and then we got into an almost two hour conversation about something. Fuyuhiko and I did that a lot; I found him less threatening than Genesis, Tsukiyama or even Pasha or Lydia...Probably because he was gay and wouldn’t try to fuck me.

  


I was in a bit of a rush to meet Tsukiyama and Genesis that night, so separated from Fuyuhiko and went to the grocery store. I was picking out grapefruits when a woman approached. I wasn't looking at her—I was checking in with Pasha—so only moved out of the way, not looking at her.

  


“Charlotte,” She said.

  


I squeaked and shot up. “Oh! Sorry. It’s-It’s you...“

  


She smiled. "Yes, obviously. I needed to see you,”

  


I smiled back. "We see each other all the time,"

  


 _She sees me. Though, ever since I moved in with Lydia she's been quiet._

  


She placed an arm around my waist. I shuddered. "Did you get my messages?" She asked.

  


"My phone's acting up. Was something wrong?"

  


"Oh, nothing...I don't like what you're wearing,"

  


"I just finished pole,"

  


"You could've gotten dressed. Are you going back to work?"

  


"Maybe,"

  


"I don't like you working there. There are some real creeps there,"

  


"Uh, yeah. I'm teaching classes now, so I'm handing my notice in soon,"

  
“That’s good. I worry about you there...So much corruption around nowadays. You need someone to look after you,”

“Oh, no, I’m fine. I can handle myself,”

“You say that,” She stroked my hair. “I know you like to think you’re independent, Charlotte, but really you’re still only a child,”

“I’m twenty-one,”

“It’s called regression, sweetie,”

“I just like kid’s stuff, I’m not mentally regressed,”

She smiled. “You think that...” She trailed off. “When are you getting a new phone? I’m tired of way conversations,”

“Sorry, I’ll get on it,”

“Yes. I have to go now. I’ll see you later, Charlotte,”

  


"Sure, Lyra," I replied. I just wanted to see what would happen.

  


She glared at me, her catlike eyes flashing with something I didn't understand. She stared at me for a few seconds, before nodding and leaving.

  


I stayed still, trying to figure out what'd just happened. I blinked, shook myself off and carried on. I went back to Lydia’s to get changed, only to be cornered by her.

  


"I don't like you spending all these nights out," She'd said, folding her arms.

  


"It's a school thing,"

  


“Let's not lie, Charlotte, I know what you're doing," She paused. "Those outfits you wear...I know what you do,"

  


"No—"

  


"You're practically asking for it. You'd think after what Ryōma did you'd stop doing it, but _nooo_. I thought you were smarter than that, sweetie,"

  


"It's not like that anymo—"

  


"You're just doing it at parties with rich kids now, it’s no different,"

  


I gawked.

  


"I have Instagram, sweetie, I've seen pictures of you with that architect and all his friends. Including _someone_ you shouldn't be talking to,"

  


"I know, I'm sorry. It's just—"

  


"It's like you're asking to be murdered or raped. _Again_. Do you want that?"

  


"No! Wait—"

  


"I just want you to be safe, sweetie, that's why you're here, with me...I'll support you. I said—don't worry about costs, didn't I? Hm? You don't have to do that awful job anymore,"

  


"It's not just about that. They are my friends—"

  


"They're most certainly not. You're just a plaything to them. I know the type—I bet they make you feel so special,"

  


"It’s not—"

  


"They're playing with you, sweetie. You're just naive,"

  


I stared at her. "I am not—"

  


She smiled. "Look, don't go out tonight. Let's watch something together. I've got ice cream—"

  


"I hate ice cream and I'm a vegan,"

  


"Sorbet?"

  


I shook my head. "I'd actually rather not. I'm going out, thanks for your concern, but I’m fine,"

  
I made a mental note to move out of there as soon as. Lydia was starting to sound like _Anna_. Besides, Genesis kept offering and she lived near Tsukiyama and my new job. I also consulted Trev, who seemed to agree—she didn’t like living there either.

  


“Of course you can live with me!” Genesis had said, later. “We’ll have so much fun together. I can’t wait,” She squeezed my arm and stared at me. “OhmyGod, you’ve lost weight,”

  


“Have I?”

  


“Yes. You look amazing! Wow. I wish I was as skinny as you,”

  


“You don’t,” I blurted out, she ignored me and skipped along. I went to find Tsukiyama—I’d brought him flowers.

  


“Oh, _merci beaucoup_!” He’d said. “They’re beautiful! Did you grow them yourself?”

  


“God, no. I just saw them and got them for you,”

  


“How very thoughtful. I do like suisen, do you have these in Wales?”

  


“They’re the Welsh national flower. We call them daffodils,”

  


His lips curled down. “I don’t like that name as much. It sounds rather filthy,” He stroked the flower heads and smiled. “Tell me, kitten, have you an interest in hanakotoba?”

  


“...Sorry, what?”

  


“Floriography,”

  


“Oh! Like, flower symbolism? It sounds like something I’d like, I’ve just never looked into it,”

  


“I’ll lend you some books,”

  


“What do daffodils mean?”

  


“Respect,”

  


I found that ironic. I smiled. “That’s good. How embarrassing would it be if it was death or something? Aha,” I laughed.

  


He smiled. “I wouldn’t mind...Your phone bleeped, by the way,”

  


“Oh, right,”

  


It was _Anna_. Or do I call her _Lyra_ now? Let’s stick with _Anna._

  


I grimaced. She was sending me messages _en masse._ All asking if I was mad at her or if I was okay. I decided to reply, just to get her to calm down.

  


 _Sorry. What’s wrong?”_

  


She replied immediately.

  


 _Ur back. Finally._

  


 _I liked seeing u earlier._

  


 _Sorry, I got weird, u scared me lol._

  


 _What scared you?_

  


 _Is that your name? Lyra?_

  


 _Why r u so interested? I told u to call me Katherine._

  


 _But I want to know your real name._

  


 _U don't need my name. It doesn't matter._

  


 _It does to me._

  


 _What r u doing rn?_

  


 _Studying._

  


 _Can I come?_

  


 _Lol, no. I'm busy._

  


 _I want to see u again._

  


 _I have to study._

  


 _R u lying? Cos i kno u go out at night._

  


 _Studying._

  


 _Pls can I come see u?_

  


 _I'm really busy._

  


 _Can I call u?_

  


 _I need to focus—prepping for my research project._

  


 _But u don't need to try cos ur so smart._

  


 _It's a research project. Seriously. I have to go._

  


"That's an old phone," Tsukiyama interrupted. I flinched. “Oh, _pardon_ , I didn't mean to frighten you,"

  


I laughed awkwardly. "It's fine," I paused. "Did you need something?”

  


"I’d like to do your hair. I think a high ponytail would go better with that outfit,”

  


“Oh, right, uh, sure,”

  


“ _Merci_. Your hair’s beautiful, so long and thick...And that colour! _Magnifique_!”

  


”Thanks,”

  
He sat me down in front of a mirror and pulled my hair into a high ponytail.

“Wow, I do have a lot of hair,” I said. Being in from of a mirror was forcing me to look at my face. I was glad of this, as I hoped I might remember what it looked like.

“Indeed,” He said, finding a pearl hairband.

“Blondes naturally have more hair, because we need more protection from UV light,”

“How interesting,”

“I’ve always wanted to dye it,”  


"Oh, _non, non, non_! Charlotte, _chérie_ , you're a minority hair group. You have to keep it healthy—"

  


"Not all of it. I'd like to dye my ponytail or something, up to here...And maybe a strand at the front,"

  


“What colour?"

  


"Pink. Or orange. Or green. I don't mind, something bright and colourful. Like yours,"

  


"You want this colour? I think pink would be perfect—what shade?"

  


"Neon,"

  


"That could go. Maybe a pastel would be better—seeing as that's most of your wardrobe,"

  


"I want it to be as pink as possible. I'm taking my pink obsession to a new level,"

  


"I gathered. I won’t give you a fringe, people need to see that gorgeous face of yours," He paused, stroking my hair. His hand was so close to my neck, I almost wanted him to strangle me. "Do you like wearing children's clothes?"

  


"Hm?"

  


"Do you like dressing like a child?"

  


"They make me feel small,"

  


"Only, you have children's toys and DVDs. It's not a fetish, is it?"

  


I laughed. "I have almost every fetish known to man,"

  


He blinked. "OK, _pardon_ , I don't mean to intrude. It's just a little strange,"

  


"My therapist at Oxford said it was a coping mechanism. He thought I'd regressed,"

  


"Oh, _je suis désolée_ ,"

  


"He said it was in response to a traumatic event," I shuddered, thinking about August 2004. "Though, most people just think I'm a pedophile, which I'm not,"

  


"Of course not. Some people are so rude,"

  


"It's not sexual at all, I just—I don't know. It makes me feel comfortable and safe. That's all,"

  


He nodded, hesitating. He sat next to me. "If I may, what happened? The traumatic event,"

  


I looked away. "It was not related, it could not be. I didn't start this until years after the event, so it cannot be related,"

  


"It could be. When did you start?"

  


"Fifteen, sixteen when I started all the pink-girly-girl stuff,"

  


"When was the event?"

  


"I was thirteen. I don't remember it that well. I try not to think about it,"

  


“Tell me,”

  


“I’ve never told anyone before,”

  


He smiled gently. "You kept my secret, let me keep yours. What happened to you?"

  


"...As I said, I don't really remember a lot. It, uh, it was August 2004, I woke up in this field, and I didn't have my leggings or underwear on, and there was blood and it hurt. It _really_ hurt...And all I could taste was this earthy taste—like mushrooms,"

  


I was sobbing. It felt good to tell someone—someone that wasn’t a goldfish—but it was terrifying to admit it. Admitting it meant it’d actually happened. Admitting it meant I knew what I’d tried so hard to forget.

  


Tsukiyama stared at me, awkwardly touching my shoulder and rubbing my back. I didn't really like it, but at least he wasn't blaming me or something.

  


"I'm sorry," He said. "I didn't mean to upset you,"

  


"It's fine," I choked. "It was years ago now. I should not be so upset,"

  


"You have every right to be upset. That's awful, You’ve never told anyone? At all?" He gave me a tissue.

  


I paused. "Well...My boyfriend knew. He’d found me in that field. I think he guessed. He told me not to tell anyone. He said it'd be too stressful for me,"

  


"Boyfriend?"

  


"He was not my boyfriend at the time. I left school when I was thirteen because of a suicide attempt—Paracetamol, I self-educated until uni— so he was my tutor. We started having regular sex about a year later, which was mostly BDSM because I couldn't handle intercourse,"

  


"What's the age of consent in Wales?"

  


"Sixteen,"

  


"How old was he?"

  


"Thirty-two,"

  


He stared at me, before mumbling something I didn't catch. "Oh, so—Sorry, I didn't realise you'd been groomed,"

  


"Groomed? I was not groomed. Erik never hurt me. We loved each other,"

  


"You were thirteen, he was more than double that,"

  


"I was very mature—I got my period when I was nine,"

  


"That's got nothing to do with it. Grown men shouldn't be in a relationship with children, and I shouldn’t have to explain that to you,"

  


"We were in love, Tsukiyama. He was not like other men—so sweet, and devoted—He used to buy me things after sex. He bought me alcohol and butterfly knives, he gave me weed—he said it’d loosen me up. He took me on weekend trips and—"

  


"That's grooming,"

  


"He was just being kind,"

  


He looked at me with this...This look. It was like he was disgusted by me. That made me feel awful. I explained more.

  


"I instigated the relationship. He said he was a monster. He called himself horrible things. It was my fault. He always said it was up to me...And sure, he could hurt me sometimes, but he never meant to—"

  


"Hurt you how?”

  


"Sometimes he said things that upset me—but everyone does that; I'm very sensitive,"

  


"What did he say?"

  


“It was never his fault. I upset him too, so he upset me. Like, sometimes I didn't want to be touched or kissed and he'd get really upset. He would not talk to me for ages, only when I was ' _in a better mood_ ' again,"

  


"Tell me you can hear how awful this sounds?"

  


"You don't understand. I hurt _him_. It was _my_ fault,"

  


"How did you upset him?"

  


I thought. "I'd just say things that upset him. He didn’t like it when I wore dresses or revealing things, he said I looked like a slut. He didn't like me going to university, and it hurt him when I talked about it. He'd get angry, really angry. He'd say, 'they don't let people like you become scientists, they'll laugh at you', and he'd say that I didn't need a job because he'd support me. That's how I lost him, actually,"

  


" _Lost_ him? Men like that don’t normally just get lost, as I well know,”

  


"Erik disappeared on my seventeenth birthday. We had a huge fight. I was preparing for uni and I decided that I was going. It was my dream. He just lost it. I think I ended it. I didn't mean it, but it was my dream. I hated to admit it, to hurt him, but my education meant more to me than he did. What was I meant to do? Next thing I knew, he was gone. Just gone. No note or anything, didn't even take his stuff. Police came by, searched his house, my mum didn't let them speak to me. And I'm glad because...Urgh. Never mind. After Erik, I could only date women for a bit,"

  
“Because he damaged you,”

“No! Stop saying that. He loved me. I hurt him. He left because he hated me so much. It’s my fault. I hurt him, he never meant to hurt me...” I choked and sniffed.

  


Tsukiyama didn't say anything. He just stared at me with that horrible look on his face.

  


I sniffled, looking away. "Don't look at me like that. I don't like it,"

  


"What do you want me to do?"

  


"Say something. You're making me feel like an alien,"

  


"I don't know what to say,"

  


I let out a short laugh. "I've rendered you speechless. Is that a first?"

  


"No,"

  


“This is why I don’t talk about Erik...Because everyone always assumes that he was some horrible abusive monster, but he wasn’t...He loved me, and that’s all he ever did...” I wiped my eyes. "Oh, look. I've ruined my makeup,"

  


"You shouldn't go tonight. You've gotten too upset,"

  


"I’ll just fix my makeup—”

  


"No, you shouldn’t work tonight. Not after what you just told me,”

  


"So it was fine before? When you didn't know?"

  


"That’s not what I meant. I just thought that after thinking about something so traumatic, you might not want to do your work,"

  


"I've gotten used to it,"

  


"How can you accept something like that?"

  


"I just have to get my head down and get to work. That's all I can do,"

  


"You could've gone to the police,"

  


"I did,"

  


"But you said—"

  


"Wait, no I didn't...Yeah, I did—I can't remember. Don't make me think about it. It's easier to forget about it. I like forgetting about it,"

  


"How do you do sex work? How can you even have intercourse normally? I don't understand,"

  


"Me either. It gets hard sometimes, because...That has not been the only time I’ve been...” I wasn’t going to say that word. I couldn’t.

  


“Raped?” He said. I shuddered. “It’s happened again?”

  


I nodded. “I don’t want to talk about it,”

  


“You have to,”

  


“I don’t. I’m not going to,”

  


He sighed and placed a hand to his head. “Humans can be so stubborn...”

  


I paused. “Do ghouls get...Does it happen to ghouls?”

  


“No. It’s never happened to me,”

  


“You’re a man—Not that men can’t be...It’s just. You’re double my weight—It’s unlikely to happen to you...maybe. I don’t know,”

  


He shrugged. “I assume it only happens to humans, or weak ghouls, not you’re weak...Though, you have lost weight. You’re starting to look like a skeleton. Are you eating?”

  


“Yes,” I was living off protein shakes and grapefruit, so not really eating, but at least I was loosing weight, which was all I wanted.

  


“Just watch yourself,” He said. “I’d hate for my lovely new pet to starve to death,”

  


“Sure,” I said, pausing. “Thanks for listening to me. You will not tell anyone, right?”

  


“ _Non_ , you’ve kept my secret, right?”

  


"It's not the same though. You should not have to keep that a secret,"

  


"Well, why should you?”

  


"Because what happens to me is my fault. I mean, don't act like you don't think it. Look at what I wear, my job, my mental state—even if I wanted to tell anyone, they wouldn't believe me or they'd say I deserved it,"

  


"Why don’t you go to the police?”

  


"No one would believe me and I don't want to cause a fuss. It's easier to accept it,"

  


"You work with the police, surely that gives you an advantage?"

  


"They all hate me there, and there's this guy, Ryōma, and he—Actually. Never mind,"

  


"No, I want to know,"

  


"It's nothing,"

  


"I could sort it for you. I could get you a lawyer, or—"

  


"That's very kind, but no. It'd be a waste of time,"

  


"I don't mind,"

  


"It's fine, really. I'll be fine," I paused. "Sorry, you probably didn’t want to hear about any of this. We should go,"

  


"Hold on," He grasped my arm, nails digging in ever so slightly. "Let’s stay behind. I need to study and you look terrible now,"

  


I laughed. "Yes, I know. Don't you want to go? I mean, it's at an aquarium. I love aquariums,"

  


"I don't really care for most of the people there and I've got exams. We can go to the aquarium anytime,"

  


“What would we do here?"

  


"Study, talk—You look like you need a drink,"

  


"...That sounds nice. Do you have a laptop I could use for my notes?"

  


That night turned out to be amazingly peaceful. It was relieving to spend a night away from prying eyes and wandering fingers. I was still working, but at least it was fun. Shuu Tsukiyama was an excellent study-buddy. He was also studying botany and I study entomology, so we were able to share notes and add to our essays.

  


It was just a nice evening.

  


I drank a lot of wine that night though. _A lot_.

  


I stayed over too. I was a bit worried he'd sneak in in the night to try and screw me. I mean, I liked Shuu Tsukiyama, even trusted him a little, but trust and liking someone was what got you assaulted.

  


I’d learn within the next few weeks, that one can never be too careful.


	25. Chapter 25

**Chapter 25**

Shuu Tsukiyama and I got closer after that night.

He called me his pet—his feline—which was confusing at first, because I assumed he'd meant something sexual and was prepared to perform. It turned out I was mistaken—he didn't _literally_ want me to be his cat.

He also began buying me gifts. First, it was a pair of wireless headphones, then more clothes, flowers, and so on. It made me a little uncomfortable at first, but I wasn't complaining.

I was glad of my newly cemented relationship with Tsukiyama, as it meant that when I moved in with Genesis, I had other friends on the street I could talk to. Fuyuhiko also lived in the same neighbourhood—which only had about five houses, but they were all massive, except Fuyuhiko.

Genesis' house sat up the top of the street on a slight hill, it was a church conversion, so everything sat in one room. She'd kept the original baptism pool and we used it as a swimming pool, which was at the back of the house, separated only by a single wall.

There was a single bedroom and bathroom upstairs, both huge. My bedroom was in the attic, also with a small bathroom. All my animals loved it. Trev got a view of the street, Aqua could race around and pounce on everything, and the cockroaches just kinda...existed.

It was a comfortable living situation and I was happy with it. There was a gym nearby that everyone used, and I was able to get some slots there for my yoga and fitness classes, so I began preparing my resignation from the station.

Going to the station was even more nerve-racking, not only was Ryōma demanding my sexual presence every five seconds, but Lydia hadn't responded well to my moving out.

"Don't you like living here?"

"It's not that. I just don't want to bother you.”

"You'd rather live with some drug-addled bimbo? What's wrong with me?"

I blinked, unable to speak. "Uhm—"

"I didn't do anything wrong. I took care of you. It's not my fault you're an ungrateful cu—"

"Do you mind?" Himari was in the bathroom too. "Some of us are trying to shit in peace.”

"Do _you_ mind? We're talking.”

"You're shouting. Fisher looks like she's about to cry.”

Lydia ignored Himari and turned to me, smiling. "Look, Charlotte, I think you've made a mistake. You don't bother me at all, I'd love for you to keep living with me.”

"I think she's good,"

"Fuck off, Himari.”

"Uhm, no," I said. "I'd rather live with my friend...Uh. Thanks.”

"B-But, I—"

"OhmyGod, no means no," Himari went to wash her hands. "Why're you so desperate to keep her with you? Got a crush or something?"

I left then, without Lydia noticing. I was immediately tackled by Ryōma, and for once I was relieved that he was horny.

After, I went to find Pasha to see if he needed me for the Gunnarsons.

"Oliver Gunnarson's a mess," He said. "We'll need you in there—just to see.”

"Sure.”

"And his daughter—Kristen—She's refusing to communicate in Japanese.”

He explained how things would go and what I'd have to do. I understood and went to hand in some of Ryōma's paperwork.

Ryōma wanted me to go into the storage cupboard with him _again_ , but I refused. He'd pinched my butt and told me that I was going to do it or he was reporting me. I'd started to get upset, I wanted him to stop touching me.

Luckily, Pasha and Himari had seen him do it and my pushing him away.

"For fuck's sake," Himari snapped. I assumed she'd blame me. She'd only been nice to me before because she hated Lydia more than me. "She clearly doesn't like that.”

I looked up in surprise. Ryōma had laughed. "Oh, she loves it. Charlotte here is a little slut.”

"Get your hands off of her," Pasha snapped. Ryōma's grip seemed to lighten. "I mean it. I'll go to IA.”

"For what?"

"Sexual assault.”

"I'm not assaulting anyone—you think I'm a fucking rapist? It's just a little fun.”

"Fun? You're making her uncomfortable," Himari said.

"I'm not. If she didn't like it, why's she wearing such a tight skirt?”

"That's enough," Pasha gave Ryōma a little shove and pulled me to his side. "Come on, Pigeon, let's go do some work.”

Pasha took me into Lydia's office. "I don't like it here.” I said.

"Why? You like Lydia,"

I explained how Lydia had made me uncomfortable and was met by him laughing. "Lydia? Are you sure? Lydia, aggressive?"

"I'm serious. She's making me uncomfortable.”

"Well, it's up to you if you wanna move. You know where you are comfy, you're not gonna make a complaint, are you?"

"No. I'm leaving soon anyway...Though, I was thinking; since I started living with Lydia, Lyra hasn't been in my stuff,"

"That means moving worked,"

"But she was texting me. You've seen what she sends me. She never once asked where I was living. She only ever asked questions once I was out, and Lydia made a huge thing whenever I dared go out.”

He placed a hand on his head. "Christ, Pigeon, you really think—"

"And Lydia makes comments on what I wear, where I go, how much I workout and eat. She's really clingy too.”

"That doesn't mean she's a stalker.”

"But Lyra's exactly the same, and when I'm with Lydia, she never texts me or anything. And Lydia has green eyes—"

"Stop right now. Lydia is not your stalker, that's ridiculous.”

"But it's odd. They could be the same person. I mean, they look really similar.”

"Stop it. Lydia just cares about you," He sighed. "You have a lot going on right now. You are probably so confused.”

"No, I'm not—"

"You have your mental health, Ryōma, school, your jobs, and all this. It's natural that you are a bit paranoid.”

"Pasha, please, I'm not paranoid. There's something wrong with Lydia. There's a link—"

"I don't think there is.”

"Please—"

"Maybe you should take a nap? You're not thinking strai—"

"I'm fine! Please, listen to me. There's something off. I'm not paranoid, there's something wrong. You have to look into it, please.”

He looked at me and I knew he wouldn't do it. He just sighed. "Fine, sure," He paused. "I need to talk to you about Ryōma too.”

"...OK?"

"You have to report him, this cannot continue,"

"What? No, you don't understand—"

"The Chief will make sure it stays private. I'll come with you. You don't have to do this alone, I swear—"

"I can't—"

"You have to. Charlotte, I will not do it without you, but this cannot continue, it just cannot. You don't like what he's doing, right?"

"No, but I'm leaving soon,"

"You think he'll leave you alone?"

"...No, but—"

"Charlotte, I know something happened to you. I know you have been...assaulted, and I want to help. I cannot watch this. I'm sorry,"

I paused. "Do you care? Really?"

He nodded with a smile. "Of course,"

I sniffed. "Fine. I'll report him when I hand in my resignation. Will you come?"

"Absolutely. Why don't we see the Gunnarsons first, eh? Or do you—"

"No, do that first,"

"OK, and Charlotte, I hate to add to it, but you have lost a lot of weight. Are you eating?"

I was living off black coffee and grapefruit, drinking and vomiting at parties. I was barely alive, but being so skinny felt amazing. Especially seeing as I was now thinner than Genesis. She and I had been in a little competition to lose more weight, and I was miles ahead.

Pasha didn't seem to accept it, but nodded and took me to see the Gunnarsons. We started with Kristen Gunnarson, who remained silent even with my Swedish. She just stared at the clock, green eyes fixed on one spot, like there wasn't even a person inside.

Oliver Gunnarson was different. The man was terrified. He wept nonstop, claiming he didn't know what we were talking about, that we were being cruel and he wanted to see his daughter.

"I don't know what you want from me," He'd wept, "I don't, really, I don't know what you're talking about.”

That was all we could get from either of them. That was it. Eventually, they had to be released and I overheard Pasha, Himari and Morimine discussing them later.

"There's definitely something wrong there,"

"My theory—Bergström's related to him.”

"Oh, definitely. Kristen has the same eyes as Lyra, do you think there could be a relation there too?"

"Definitely.”

"Does that to our motive? Could the killer be doing this out of revenge?"

"None of the victims had relations to the killings—or Sweden, for that matter.”

"Do they have any link to Fisher?"

I froze and pricked up. I was in another room, photocopying and making coffee, so I quietly slipped against the door and listened.

"Don't think so. Kid's only been in Tokyo a few months, and you did background checks on her, anything odd?"

"Lots of odd stuff—left school at thirteen, something else happened that year too—she made some kind of accusation and withdrew it, a few more later on. All sexual assault, but that's not exactly suspicious to this case.”

"Sorokin, did you know about that?"

"...No, but that sounds pretty private,"

"Anyway. If Fisher's ' _stalker_ ' and Lyra are the same person, what does that mean?"

“Nothing yet. We’ll have to talk more with people involved to see where it’s linked. Sorokin, you said there was something odd with the Sweden cases?”

"Yes. One of the dance companies in Kumla felt something was being kept from them. Bergström pleaded not guilty on all charges, he claimed that Lyra was actually responsible for the murder. He claimed; ' _she was obsessed with me. I've known her since she was six,_ and she's always followed me around,' it says he went on to say that since the age of about eight, she'd acted ' _inappropriately_ ' and quote; ' _touched Bergström in ways a child shouldn't know, and used inappropriate language_ ,' he said this continued throughout her teens.”

"Sounds like a pretty extreme childhood crush. Did you find anything on her parents?"

"Nothing on her at all, except the name and the fact she drowned.”

" _Allegedly._ ”

"Bergström claimed that Lyra also harmed small animals and left them in her peers' lockers. This was backed up by other dancers, who weren't officially quoted.”

"OK...So..."

"Bergström's adding up, and the ' _stalking_ ' he mentioned links to Charlotte's stalker. I think they might be the same person.”

"And that person is Lyra?”

"It's not definite yet. We still need to interview the original detectives on the case, and find more about Lyra, maybe find some family. I think it's something to consider.”

"So, does that mean you wanna take Tsukiyama off the suspect list?"

"For now, yes.”

"What about Raabe? Gunnarson's girlfriend?"

"Keep her there, she might be useful.”

They began discussing what they were doing next and I stepped back, as Pasha was coming to get me.

I'd only met Chief Bessho once before. He was older, robust man who reminded me of a sugar daddy I'd once had.

I felt uncomfortable sharing such information with him. I'd only just told someone about my sexual assault and August of 2004, and that already had me nervous.

Pasha was helpful, however, and sometimes explained for me—all whilst holding my hand.

When it was done, the Chief smiled at me and asked to speak to me alone. Pasha refused, but accepted when Himari came in to get him about something.

"I'll be five minutes," He'd said. "I swear.”

I didn't like it. I didn't like that at all. I began to sweat, praying I wouldn't cry.

"Well..." The Chief said, when Pasha was gone, "You certainly like attention, don't you, Miss Fisher?"

I wanted Pasha back now. "Sorry, sir?" I asked.

"Don't act like you don't know. You're an attention-seeker, aren't you?"

"A bit; what's that got to do with this?"

"Sit down.”

"No, thank you.”

"Sit down.”

I sat, waiting. My leg began to bounce.

"Miss Fisher, I want you to know. Ryōma's been a good friend of mine for years. We've known each other since school, actually,"

"I really don't—"

"I'm talking and you'll show me some respect. Now, we know each other really well—my son's his godchild—and I'm sure you can imagine, it's very hard for me to believe anything you just said.”

"But people have seen him do it. Ask Himari, or Pasha, or Ly—"

"But I don't need to, Miss Fisher, because I don't need to investigate this.”

"But you have to. He-he-he’s—Sir, he’s hurting me. I have bruises, bites, scratches, tears. Please, I’m—”

"Miss Fisher, what you've presented to me this afternoon is frankly; _bullshit_. You truly expect me to believe that a respected member of the police force—of our _community_ —is some kind of predator? Especially when the person reporting it is someone with a history of reporting false assault?"

"No, I've never—"

"It says here that in late August of 2004, a Miss Charlotte Fisher, aged thirteen, reported to the Monmouthshire police that she'd been raped and drugged by...Oh, no, look—she withdrew it quickly when the officer found out about her numerous suicide attempts and visits to a mental hospital. Sound familiar?"

"It was not like that.”

"What was it like then? Oh, look, another one, this time to the Oxfordshire police, January and May of 2008, December of 2010, which was followed by a brief two-week stay at another mental institution. And now, in July of 2012, you've tried it again.”

"Sir, please, I'm not a liar—"

"I think this says otherwise. Let's also look at some other evidence; as you do seem to have trouble keeping up. Let's look at what you wear. Those tiny little skirts, low-cut tops, wearing practically nothing on summer days or in the gym. Am I supposed to believe you wear all this thinking no one would say or do anything?"

"I feel comfortable in those clothes. I have sensory issues and an eating disorder, it’s important—"

"And we've all heard the rumours. How many people in my department have you slept with? Most of them, I imagine. Your Instagram page? Let's have a—Oh, look! That's you. Don't you look pretty? Wearing a wet t-shirt with no bra. Oh, here's one of your ass. You've got a lovely ass, Fisher. Though, everyone can see you're squeezing your tits together in this picture. Oh! That's a nice bikini. That blue looks amazing on you. You weighed more in this photo, didn't you? Glad to see you've lost weight; men don't like muscular women. You wouldn't be able to wear those clothes that make you feel so _comfortable.”_

I wanted to scream. It's a wonder how I didn't.

He continued. "Then we go onto a particular job you have. One that I shouldn't let you have, but I've let it slide.”

“How did you—"

"Oh, everyone knows, Charlotte. Ryōma told me, then he told Himari, and Sorokin, and Morimine, and everyone. They all know what you are. A slut.”

I was desperately trying not to cry, and failing.

"Don't give me the waterworks, Fisher. You've been caught. Get over it.”

"What are you going to do to me?"

He paused. "Well, I can see you won't pursue this claim, which is good, but I need to make sure you don't do it again.”

"How, sir?"

"I'll keep this quiet from your university, how about that?"

I just wanted to leave. I'd do anything at that point. I just nodded. "Fine.”

"And about this letter of resignation you handed in earlier—Do you still want to follow it up?"

I nodded. My knees felt weak and I was shivering.

"Why?"

"A better opportunity.”

"Fine, but this is only a month's notice, maybe three months, I don't know yet. We have to make sure you're _completely_ sure.”

"I am.”

"I don't think you are. You don’t seem like you’re capable of making such a big decision on your own. Maybe talk to your mummy and daddy first, hm? You can go now.”

I nodded and turned. I just wanted to leave

"Miss Fisher? I won't be this lenient next time." He'd called.

I ran out. Pasha was waiting outside now, I shook my head and pushed him away. "I need to go” I said.

I went back to Ryōma's desk and took my coat and bag. There was a penknife on his desk and I took it. It was there and I needed to do it. I didn't give it back. I was afraid he'd notice the blood and I didn't want to give it back.

I worked out for four hours afterwards, whilst practicing my language work. I worked until every part of me was frazzled, and I then I had to work that night.

Upon seeing me that night, Genesis had hugged me. I'd been taken back, but accepted. She started crying. "Something's wrong," She'd sniffed. "Someone's hurt you.”

"I'm fine.” I'd said. I was too exhausted to cry. I could barely speak.

She shook her head. "You're lying, you shouldn't lie, Charlotte, not an angel like you. Someone hurt you. Who?"

I smiled. "I just want to forget about it.”

"But that's not—"

"It's how I do it.” I paused, before telling her I was going to get changed.

Genesis followed me. "You should wear red, I'm wearing red tonight.” She'd said.

"I'd rather yellow tonight," I said. "I had something already in mind,"

"Your hair looks nice, it always looks nice, but it looks nicer today.”

"New products. Thank Tsukiyama."

"You're so beautiful, Charlotte. You're an angel. An angel sent to me by the Lord himself.”

I waited for her to say that she hated that about me, but she didn't. "Thanks, is God a him?”

“Why wouldn’t he be?”

“Why wouldn’t God be genderless?”

She didn’t reply and continued to compliment me, following me around and asking me random questions. I think she was trying to cheer me up, but it was a bit annoying.

Before we left, I went to see Tsukiyama, I'd brought him flowers to thank him for letting me vent. I prayed he wouldn't pick up on my mood, which he didn't.

"Oh! _Merci beaucoup_! They're beautiful. Did you grow them yourself?"

"God, no.”

"I'll put these in a vase. Come in, I've got something for you.”

I followed him to a kitchen, where he handed off the flowers and handed me a gift bag. "I'm tired of you saying you need a new one.” He said.

I paused. "You got me a phone? It's an s3, too.”

"You need a new one. Do you like it?"

"I can't accept this. It's too much.”

"Please, it's practically nothing.”

"But—"

"I bought it for you, and I'll be terribly offended if you don't accept it.”

I accepted it, but didn't touch it for about a week. I felt quite embarrassed about it, really.

I thanked him profusely at that time, not knowing what else to do.

"Uh, are you coming?" I asked, about to leave.

"Not tonight, no, I've got another event. I'll see you tomorrow though, _oui_?"

"Sure,"

I don't remember that night much, only that I think I did coke for the first time, and woke up next to Genesis.

We always slept together; she got lonely and said she found Trev’s filter relaxing. I didn’t mind.

I snuggled up to her for warmth, taking in the smoothness of her skin and the sweet smell of her hair. I smiled and stroked her hair, hearing her tiny mumbles.

I saw that she still had her crucifix on and removed it. I didn’t want her to get strangled.

I stared at Genesis for a long time, before checking the time. I wasn’t going to get back to sleep, so went for a swim and some yoga in the sunrise.

I swam naked—Genesis said we could only swim naked—and as I went through my laps I heard something.

I looked up at the ceiling—perhaps it was a bat or pigeon? It didn’t sound that light.

I looked at the window, trying to spot the source through the stained glass.

It took me awhile, but eventually I saw two green, catlike eyes staring at me.

But when I blinked, she was gone.


	26. 26

**Chapter 26**

There was a scream. A great cry of fear and agony.

I flinched, finally averting my eyes from where Lyra’s had been. I looked to the large door from the pool to living area, and called out. There was a wail in reply.

Genesis was seldom up so early—she only ever got up early to pray in the pool.

I called out again, and went to dry myself, tripping and seeing stars. I’d been feeling light-headed lately.

I recovered and found Genesis sobbing in the kitchen. I embraced her, still seeing stars, and tried to calm her.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, repeatedly.

She sniffled. “The-The cross! It’s-It’s...aah...”

I looked up. One of her crosses had been allowed to fall, now inverted. “It probably just fell.”

“It’s a sign! It’s a message...from the Lord...He thinks I’m unworthy. I am unworthy! I must repent!”

“Isn’t the inverted cross related to Saint—”

“I must repent!” She crawled into a ball, wailing prayers. “I am a monster! A demon! I am a sinner. Please, oh Holy Lord, I beg for your forgiveness! I shall repent! I have tried so hard, my Lord—”

“Genesis, stop, you’re scaring me.”

I had to call Tsukiyama in the end. Genesis began blaming him for her _sinning_ , and said Tsukiyama could repent with her to save his soul. When he refused, she started raving, giving an immense and passionate speech that I can’t remember a word of.

I remember the accusations after. I was named a succubus. I was the reason for the Lord’s rejection of Genesis. It was my fault.

She was unrecognisable. A wild woman. It was terrifying.

I think I cried and hid in another room, until Tsukiyama came to get me. Genesis was asleep, he said, she was starving, hence her madness. He said his servants would handle it.

I chose not to question it, and accepted his offer to go shopping.

I wondered if the cross had fallen, or if Lyra did it to scare Genesis. I wondered if she’d hurt Genesis even more, or just scare her more. Though, Genesis when scared seemed dangerous, so was she trying to scare me?

I tried not to think about it. Maybe I hadn’t seen anything. The cross must’ve fallen. I’d been under stress, I wasn’t eating at all—I probably just imagined it.

It didn’t help that Ryōma was constantly texting me now too. I’d decided not to return to work after the meeting with Chief Bessho.

After I explained it to Pasha, he said he’d hand in my notice for me and told everyone I was taking time for my exams. I wouldn’t be going back, he’d make sure of it.

However, Pasha still needed help with translation, so I helped him with that whenever he needed. Which meant I still had insight into what was going on with the Lyra Case.

The same day as Genesis’ meltdown, Pasha called me to his house to do some translating.

"Who am I speaking to?" I’d asked, after an awkward conversation about how much weight I’d lost.

"Marin Sandrum's parents and a detective that worked the case—I managed to track them down."

"Wahey!"

"Don't get excited. Here. I wrote you a script."

"Who first?"

"Detectives."

I spoke with a commissioner of the Stockholm police—Lucas Karlsson—first. He told me most of what the articles and companies had said, with a few extra details.

"The other victim, Lyra—was that her real name?"

"Lyra Svensson. She was sixteen."

"And her body wasn't discovered?"

"No, but she hasn't shown up. I presume she's dead."

"OK. Was the case suspicious to you? Only a few people have said—"

"Suspicious how?"

"Lyra and Bergström—"

"If this is about what he said—"

"It is."

"Right. In our opinion, Bergström’s claims were just an attempt to save himself. It was pitiful, really; a thirty-something-year-old man trying to claim a tiny sixteen-year-old had stalked him, framed him for murder—killing someone she was good friends with."

"What was Lyra’s relationship to Marin?”

“Friends.”

“What did Lyra's relatives say about her?"

"You'd have to ask. I believe her father died when she was younger, her mother—Elsa—lives in Malmö. I'll email the address."

"Thanks. On Hugo Bergström, what prison is he in?"

"Kumla. He got a maximum sentence."

"That's eighteen years, right?"

"I'll send you a number."

"Thanks, and his son?"

"Olov Bergström. Kid was traumatized. He tried to kill himself afterwards. I wasn't surprised—the papers tore that kid apart. ' _The apple never falls far_ ,' they said. He was about nineteen, a gymnast—heading for the Olympics—but I think he studied law. Had a new identity and everything—"

"Did he have a new name?"

"Yes."

"It wouldn't happen to be Oliver Gunnarson, would it?"

"That was it, yes."

I looked to Pasha. "What was his relationship with Lyra like?"

"They were close—friends from childhood."

"OK, what about a Kristen Gunnarson? Anything on her?"

"Never heard of her. I'll track down another ballet teacher for you and email their number, if that works?"

"Yes, thank you, we're about to call Marin's parents, are they—"

"They never recovered after Marin. Her mother—Libby—she took an overdose about a year after. By then, everything had died down. Her father—Elias—he's a nasty piece of work. I thought the guy was untraceable—went to live in the woods. How'd you find a number?"

"Dance company, I think. It might be out of date. I'll tell you if it works."

It didn't, and neither did Elsa Svensson's number—full inbox, apparently. I was able to speak to the prison officers at Kumla prison. They said they'd ring me back in the morning; Bergström was working.

"Well," Pasha said. "That was a lot. Thanks for your help. Woah, you look a little pale, are you okay?”

“Dizzy—Oh!” I stumbled, seeing stars.

“It’s ok,” Pasha caught me. “Do you wanna sit down? Water?”

"No, I’m fine. Uh. Do you need help organising all this?"

"No. I'll get Gunnarson back in custody, now that I have this evidence. When are the prison calling you?"

"Tomorrow evening. I think I'm going somewhere tomorrow night, but I can do a three-way call?"

"Works for me. You really okay?”

“Fine.”

“Ok...Here,” He handed me some money.

"Oh, no. It's fine."

"You know you’re not gonna get the rest of your wages, just take it."

"I don't need it."

"Just take it, please."

I said goodbye and hurried off. I had a new day job teaching fitness classes at the gym—and had my first yoga class that day. Afterwards, I went to a party at the _Molecular Bar_ with Fuyuhiko and Genesis (who’d recovered from her meltdown, now in dire need of coke). Tsukiyama said he had something to do.

I went home early; Fuyuhiko took Genesis home later on. I'd wanted to get back early to see if Tsukiyama was home. Since moving in with Genesis, the two of us had started this thing—which we’d do every night.

My room was in the church attic, so from my window I could see Tsukiyama’s bedroom chambers. At night, when I was alone and couldn't sleep, I liked to watch his room. On my second night there, he'd called me.

"I can see you."

"I know. I'm looking at you." I waved.

"What are you up to? Aside from staring at me?"

"Shaving, playing with my cat, just... _stuff_. What are _you_ doing?"

"Reading."

"What are you reading?"

"H.P.Lovecraft—The Dunwich Horror—it's an old favourite of mine."

"I love Lovecraft...Well, his work, he was a huge racist. I mean, look at what he called his cat."

"What did he call his cat?"

"I refuse to say it."

"Oh. Well..."

And that's how it started.

We just talked, every night—we could talk for hours. His voice was almost like ASMR; warm, deep, and addictive. I'd listen to him reading or talking with glazed eyes, absorbing everything and praying he wouldn't stop talking. _Ever_.

Luckily, he could talk for an eternity, so I wasn't short of material.

It was comforting, even on the nights when we'd sit in silence, comforted in knowing there was someone else on the other line, ready to listen to whatever we wanted to say.

I waited that night, playing with Aqua, applying skin cream and looking at myself in the mirror. I hated looking at my reflection.

My face and body always looked different. It was never the same. I wondered why; why wasn't my reflection stable? Why didn't Charlotte Fisher ever look like Charlotte Fisher?

I sniffed and looked away, covering the multiple mirrors in my room. I waited more, before lying on the bed. I grabbed my new laptop—a present from Tsukiyama—and googled ' _alien ddlg ovipositor bdsm cumshots_ ', sliding my hands down to my smooth vagina, rubbing and watching with shaky breaths.

As I was finishing, I felt my nose tighten. I stopped and cleaned my hand, my other hand up to my nose. I felt a warm trickle run down my nose.

"Seriously?" I mumbled, looking at the blood on my hand. I stood to go to the sink, because my nosebleeds are never small. As I stood, my phone rang—Tsukiyama. "Oh, for fuck's—" I picked it up. "Hi."

" _Bonsoir_ —Are you busy?"

"I’m in the middle of masturbating and a nosebleed, so, you know."

"Oh, so that’s a yes. Aha. Do you need help?"

”It’s fine. God, I feel dizzy. It’s cold up here.”

"Do you want me to come over?"

"I’m fine. Just a bit funny. I’ve been feeling weird lately. Anyway. What are you reading tonight?"

" _Dante's Inferno_."

"Uhuh. I've always liked _The Divine Comedy_. Purgatorio was my favourite—the Deadly Sins are so interesting,” I yawned and sat down, my head feeling as though it’d float away at any moment.

"I prefer Inferno, though the Sins are certainly très interesting. Which one's your favourite? Or, well, not your favourite...you know what I mean."

"Envy, maybe Lust. I'm guilty of both, or all of them, but then again, everyone will be envious, lustful, gluttonous or wrathful."

"You're not someone I'd call gluttonous, _chérie_."

"Gluttony is about excess. I have gorged myself on self-destruction."

He didn't say anything. I looked at my nightie, watching blood drip down my now flat chest and onto the floor.

I wheezed, resting my weightless head on the wall. Breathing felt exhausting. It was taking everything not to fall into a deep sleep.

"Charlotte? Are you OK? _Ça va_?"

" _Ça va_. I'm just tired, and stressed."

"Why are you stressed?"

"I don't wanna talk about it."

I looked at my legs, yet again, they looked different. They looked _skinny_. I was too tired to be happy, I _wasn't_ happy. I think I was shocked. Shocked at how weak and feeble they looked; like a foal. Once I’d starved for smaller legs, but now I hated them.

"Charlotte? You're slurring a little, are you drunk, _Chérie_?"

"I wish,” I said. I felt my ribs, and realised what this was. What was happening.

My body had had enough of my shit. It was crying out— _Please! Please! For the love of God, we need energy! Please help!_ —and at that moment I felt so guilty.

Guilty for letting my body suffer so badly. For ruining it. Thinking of my organs crying out upset me, and I began crying.

"Are you crying?" Tsukiyama asked.

"No. Yeah. Maybe."

"What on earth’s the matter? _Ma_ _Chérie_ , are you there?”

I was taking a minute to rest. Breathing and talking was too exhausting. The tightening to me chest was similar to a panic attack, though I felt too exhausted to have one.

Blood was getting in my mouth, I found myself swallowing, relishing in its metallic taste. I hadn’t tasted in days—what a joy it was! Even if it was my own blood and spit.

My breathing got worse when I tried to talk, and I found myself breathing heavily—gasping for air. Everything was too fast, too slow, too confusing. It was making me angry—if I had the energy to be angry.

I began to cry, choking on my tears, and getting even more exhausted.

Tsukiyama was desperately trying to calm me, but I wasn't stopping. I eventually slumped, leaving my phone on the floor and curling into a ball in my bodily fluids.

I was too exhausted to move. I could hear Tsukiyama on my phone still, I heard him ask where I was, why wasn't Genesis helping me? She was in my room, he said.

I remember thinking that odd—because Genesis normally went straight to sleep after a party. The stairs to the attic were also very loud, and I heard Aqua mewing a lot, which she did in front of Genesis. She didn’t like strangers.

But then, who was that woman in my bedroom playing with her?

~~

**Hi, me again.**

**I just wanted to apologise (again) for no new chapters last week and this one’s lack of quality.**

**My dog and my goldfish died in the same week, and my mental health’s been struggling. My animals are a huge support for my recovery, and I don’t have any friends, so I kinda depend on my animals.**

**I hope you all can understand and forgive me.**

**Thank you for reading.**


	27. 27

**Chapter 27**

Everything hurt.

My entire body felt bruised and broken, everything hurt—like I'd fallen from a great height.

I stirred, placing my hand to my throbbing head. My headache got worse when I opened my eyes, and I was blinded by a bright room, well-furnished room that certainly wasn't the bathroom I'd fallen asleep in.

I propped myself up, wondering what the time was—I had to workout. How long had I been asleep? Where was I? Had she kidnapped me, or had I imagined her?

I was still tired, but got up. I placed my feet on the floor, taking a moment to gaze at them—skinny little foal legs—and winced.

Such a weak and pathetic little creature, stuck in addiction and dependence. Was there any creature worse than I?

I shook my head, my brain seeming to rattle with every shake. I looked to my scarred and slashed arms, realised they were bandaged. It was then I saw the drip in my arm. I let out a cry, and pulled it out. I pulled out anything else I was attached to, and stumbled out of bed.

I looked around, feeling a wave of exhaustion wash over me. I steadied myself, feeling dizzy.

"Oh!" I heard the door open. "Oh Goodness! You're up! Oh, come, let me help," Tsukiyama put something down and came to my side.

I jumped at the sensation of his touch on me. "Ow! You're cold," My legs buckled and I fell. Tsukiyama caught me and guided me back to bed. "I can't go back to bed. I have to go."

"You're not going anywhere. Come on," He sat next to me, arm on my waist to keep me up.

"Thanks. I'm sorry," I clutched my head. "I'm so useless."

"Don't apologise. You're not useless."

"Where am I?”

“Hospital, _chérie_ , you fainted on the phone. Fortunately for you,I found you and brought you here."

"What about her?”

“Hm? Who?”

“There was someone playing with my cat, in my room.”

“I didn’t see anyone, _chérie_ **,** nor did I smell anyone. You probably just imagined it—you’re very sick.”

“What's wrong with me?"

"Something to do with your weight, I suppose; you really must take better care of yourself."

"I know.”

"They why don't you? You are a funny little thing. It'd be _tragic_ if you died before I figured you out."

"I'm not that interesting. You just think I am. I'm useless really—good for nothing."

"It's awfully rude to die prematurely, especially when you have the position of _my_ little kitten—which is very honorable.”

I shivered, wondering if the heaters worked. I couldn’t think. My brain seemed incapable of working normally. What season was it again? It wasn’t winter, was it?

"Get back into bed, you'll be warm."

"How long is this gonna take? I need to workout. I have weightlifting, pole, boxing, running and yoga today, and I think I have to work tonight." I had no idea how I’d do any of my exercise—I could barely breathe.

"I really don't think that should be your main concern."

"How long?"

"There's a doctor coming now, but I think—"

There was a gasp. "You're awake! How are you feeling? I was so worried," Fuyuhiko asked, putting some bags down. "I didn't know what to bring, so I brought loads of your stuff. Gen was about as useful as a chocolate teapot. And your goldfish's fine. I had to move her to my place—like I said, Genesis is useless—she's a bit of a moody fish, isn't she?"

"...Huh? Could you talk a bit slower?"

"Sorry. I didn't mean to overload you. Do you want me to get a doctor?"

"If you could, _merci_ ," Tsukiyama turned to me. "Come, into bed," He looked at my discarded wires and sighed. "Oh dear, let's try and get you reattached."

"No.”

"Charlotte—"

"I'm not having anything until I know why I'm here."

" _Chérie_ , you can barely speak, I think you need it."

"I don't care. For fuck's sake, is the heating broken? It’s the middle of winter, right?” I wrapped a blanket around my head and shivered.

"Summer. Ah! _Salut_!"

The doctor ignored Tsukiyama and smiled at me. "Miss Fisher, glad to see you're awake. You're cold?"

"What's wrong with me? How long will I be here?"

"Well, you're very—"

"I'm busy, so could we skip the mental health talk and get to what happened?"

"Charlotte, don't be rude," Tsukiyama sat next to me.

"Sorry. I just have a lot to do. Is it my, uh...iron levels?”

"Miss Fisher, if you could stop interrupting me—"

"Sorry."

"Charlotte! Let the man speak."

"Sorry."

The doctor nodded and went through some introductions I didn't listen to. Eventually, he got to it. "Miss Fisher, you're severely underweight; you have a BMI below fifteen—"

"Really?" I couldn't help but feel elated.

"It's not something to be proud of," Tsukiyama whispered. I maintained my smile.

"Is that why she fainted?" Fuyuhiko asked.

"Not quite. Brachycardia."

"Isn't that a dinosaur?" Tsukiyama shot him a look and hit him. Fuyuhiko shrugged and also sat next to me.

"It means my heart was beating too slow," I said, feeling even more elated by the diagnosis. My brain was starting to work better.

The doctor nodded. "And you're deficient in basically everything. Oh. Where's your IV?"

"She removed it."

"Please don't do that."

"What's in it?"

"It's an emergency IV—vitamins."

"Calories?"

"...I don't know. On that subject, how much do you eat regularly?"

I paused. "Uh, lots of coffee and fruit. And maybe some alcohol."

"How much exercise per week?"

"About eight hours a day, so...fifty-six.”

"Eight? Per day?"

"Mhm.”

He asked about sleep and workload and antidepressants. I began getting annoyed. "How long do I have to be here?" I asked. "I'm really busy."

"You could do with a day off," Fuyuhiko said, chewing his nail. "Is she gonna be referred to an ED clinic?"

I tensed. "What? Absolutely not. No. You can't force me. You can't. I'm an adult. I will—"

"Calm down," Tsukiyama placed a cold hand on my shoulder. I flinched and moved away.

"We don't offer those services, but you'll be on a nasogastric tube for awhile. Until your weight’s a little higher."

"I don't want that. I will not have that."

"You have to."

"I'm not having that. Fuck off."

"Charlotte!"

"I don't need it. They can't force me."

"We can, you're dying, if you don’t—"

"Hang on, hang on,” Fuyuhiko said. “You can’t just...force her to do that. She’s mentally ill—it’d fuck her up. Shouldn’t she have CBT? A referral to a clinic?”

The doctor blinked. "CBT?"

"Yeah, that's what my doctor did on Sakhalin."

"Yes," Tsukiyama asked. "Surely that'd be implemented first? Before you force such a thing?"

"In a case this severe—"

"If it's so severe, why isn't already in?"

"I wanted to speak to Miss Fisher first—"

"Right, and clearly she's not mentally stable, so what now? She'll be given a dietitian and a therapist, _oui?"_

"What are you talking about?"

"She'll be treated for anorexia, because she has _severe_ anorexia. It's not rocket science, doctor."

"Sir, we don't treat anorexia."

Tsukiyama laughed. "Right! This is one of the city's best hospitals, and you _don't_ treat eating disorders."

"No, we don't."

"Then...where do we go for treatment?"

"She doesn't need treatment for anorexia. She needs a higher weight."

"But anorexia is being below a certain BMI. That's literally the definition," Fuyuhiko said. "You can't expect her to just let you plug her with calories. That's just gonna fuck her up more, I’m telling you.”

Tsukiyama nodded.

"I don't want treatment," I mumbled. "I'd like to go home, please."

"Hold on, _chérie_ , we're talking."

I listened to them carry on bickering—as though I wasn't there. I looked to Fuyuhiko. "I don't want this," I said. "I want to go home."

He leaned in. "I know, but we won't let them give you that tube unless you have mental support."

"No, I don't want any of it. I want to go home."

"You need some kind of treatment. You can't carry on like this."

"I can."

"No. Look, I—Hang on. Excuse me?" He raised his voice. "If you're going to fight, could you go outside? You're stressing her out and I need to talk to her."

"You're asking us to get out?" Tsukiyama raised an eyebrow.

"She's crying. The poor thing's just woken up in a strange place, now she's being told she's having a nose tube. You're stressing her out."

They went outside, and Fuyuhiko helped me up and walked me to the window—something about fresh air. I was glad because the sun was shining, which was warm. He gave me some water and tissue.

"Sorry. I'm so pathetic," I said, gulping the water down.

"I don't think that. You want some more?"

"If that's okay."

"Sure," He walked over to a jug of water. "You're not pathetic. I used to be _just_ like you."

"Really? _Just_ like me?"

"Well, bulimia, but you know, I was depressed," I waited, accepting more water. "I tried to kill myself too, you know."

"How?"

He paused. "I tried to hang myself."

"I tried that when I was thirteen. Twice."

"It's not a competition. Anyway, I never tried to get better either. I didn't think I deserved it."

"But you do."

"Fuck yeah, I'm amazing, and you deserve it too," I looked to the floor, shaking my head. He sat opposite me. "Do you want to get better or not?"

I shook my head, sniffling. I was handed another tissue.

"What do you want to do?"

I paused. "I want to sleep. I want to sleep forever and forever—I’m just so fucking tired."

He placed a hand on my shoulder, moving next to me. "It's okay. I understand."

"Everyone says that."

"I've been through it. I know it'll be different for you, but I wanted to kill myself too. I hated myself so much that I refused to get better. But I did get better, and now look at me—I'm fucking amazing."

"But I'm not you."

"It's different for everyone, but my point is; I kinda get it. Probably more so than Tsukiyama or any of those doctors."

OK, well that was true.

"And...?" I asked. "You got better. Good for you. That's useless to me."

"My point is; I know you want to die. I know you don't see point in recovery because you hate yourself, because you've tried before and failed, because you don't see the point. But Charlotte, how many times have you tried to kill yourself?"

I paused. "I've lost count."

"How many times have you tried recovery?"

"Twice."

"And? How did that go?"

"...Fine. I was—I think I liked it. I don't remember, I just remember being...I don't know, uh, energetic? I liked how I looked, the person I was, it was just _easier_."

"Right, so, with that in mind, is it better to try killing yourself again, or to try recovery again?"

I paused. We both knew the right answer. What we both wanted me to say. Only, I felt so exhausted, so empty, so useless, so unwanted—I didn't want it to continue. There was more appeal to Death, who would be quicker and easier.

"I don't know," I said, brushing hair from my lips.

"So, if you don't know, which would be better to try? Until you know?"

"...Recovery?"

"Exactly. So what should we try?"

"Recovering."

He smiled. "Makes sense, right...And—"

Fuyuhiko stopped at the sound of the door opening. Tsukiyama slunk back in and stood in front of us. "Fuyuhiko, we're leaving, get her things."

"What? She needs her vitamin-thingy."

"I'll order one, she'll have to stay with me for awhile. Unless she actually wants a nose-tube, Charlotte?"

I looked up, sniffling. "I don't want one."

"See? We don't need doctors rushing her."

"We were in the middle of a conversation, actually."

"They’re portable, you know."

"No, really?"

"Hurry up, please."

“Shuu, it’s serious. I’m not about to abandon it. You get her things.”

Tsukiyama narrowed his eyes. “Don’t use my first name. What were you talking about?”

Fuyuhiko explained, and afterwards Tsukiyama sat next to me, hand on my knee. I wondered if he’d try and finger me or something. That was what usually happened.

“I agree—it’s better to try and fail recovery, isn’t it? I mean, death is rather drastic, and irreversible.”

“But I’m so tired...And it’s so hard. I don’t know if I have the energy to try.”

"Oh, don't be ridiculous, of course you do. You'll have plenty of support and we’ll get you whatever you need."

"I just want to sleep. All the time."

"Are you certain?" He took my hand. "Do you think you'd feel that way if you ate and slept more, drank less alcohol? Exercised less?"

“I don't know."

"And I think we’re forgetting something rather important."

"What?"

"If you die, what'll happen to your goldfish? Who'd look after her?"

I paused, coughing. "I don't know. One of the only reasons I'm still alive is because I have to find someone to look after her."

"Are you going to find someone good enough? Ever?"

"There's got to be someone. I could leave instructions—What stories and music she likes. Her favourite foods."

"Or you could keep doing it. I mean, _allez_ , Charlotte, could you imagine being parted from your little fish? Imagine never seeing her again. Imagine how she'd feel if you suddenly just— _left_."

I froze, my head hurting as I thought of my little baby—my _child_ —her huge eyes and silky tail. The way she woke me up at eight everyday. How she always got excited when seeing me.

"She probably wouldn't live long either. I mean, she's only been away from you two days, and she's not eating well. Is she, Fuyuhiko?”

“No. She just ignores her food. And I gave her my best gel food.”

"She does that once a month. It's just an excuse to eat peas. She's cheeky."

"She certainly is, and Tsukiyama’s right; don't you think she wants you to get better?"

Trev would want that. No one else would read her bedtime stories or play football with her. I was the only one that could and would do that with her.

"She would want that," I said, eventually.

"So, don't you think you should perhaps try? For her sake, not yours,” Tsukiyama’s hand was still on my knee, I found myself staring at his long, slender fingers, wondering why his hand was on my knee. Why wasn’t it wandering up my thigh and up and down my clit?

"I don't want to leave her,” I pursed my lips.

He moved his hand, my breath catching. He took my hand instead, nails digging into my palm a little too much. "So don't. If you love her so much. She can hardly be healthy if you're not, can she?"

"No."

" _Donc_..."

"I'll try, for her. I will try and a get better."

He smiled and stroked my hair. "There's a good girl. How exactly will you start?"

"I'll-I'll eat something—watermelon, or maybe peas or broccoli."

I realised it was a poxy order, but those were Trev's favourite foods. They were easy to digest and low in calories, so I wouldn't have trouble mentally or physically.

Tsukiyama nodded. "I'll see what I can do. Stay here whilst I deal with the doctor. Fuyuhiko, could you get her things? You’ll have to stay with me for a few days—until your medication’s finished.”

I wasn’t sure about staying with Tsukiyama; as he seemed to constantly have eyes on me, making sure I was eating and keeping food down. I didn't like eating more—it made me uncomfortable, I didn’t deserve to eat, it made me sick—but his lingering presence reminded me of why I did it.

Tsukiyama was also decent company. He’d read to me, we’d do yoga or schoolwork together. He did this a lot at night, almost like a replacement for our nightly activities.

Pasha and Fuyuhiko also visited me most days,whilst Lyra sent me a hurricane of sad face emojis and confusing messages. I heard nothing from Genesis, but saw on Instagram that she'd been to several parties.

I didn’t see Genesis at all whilst I was there. I saw her when I finished my drip, when Tsukiyama and I were training outside.

"Charlotte," She’d said, a little hurriedly. I was guiding Tsukiyama through overhead squats. "Charlotte."

"What?" I asked. "Stop rounding your back."

"Where've you been? I was lonely," She pouted, pulling at my arm.

"Not right now. Tsukiyama, keep your arse down. I don't care if you need extra time, just get your butt down."

"Charlotte, I'm talking to you."

"Genesis, I'm busy," She pulled at my arm.

"Come on, I'm going shopping."

"I swear to fuck—"

"Genesis," Tsukiyama said, standing and setting his weights down. "We're busy."

"I want to go shopping."

"You're eighteen, not eight, you can go alone."

"But I—"

"Genesis, we're busy."

Genesis cowered and slunk off, giving me an awful look. I felt an enormous amount of pity—seeing her large, brown eyes well up.

"Were we mean?" I asked.

"Not at all. Say, you could do with some new clothes, do you want to go shopping later?”

“Sure,” I said, looking at the church as Genesis scurried back inside. I looked at my bedroom window, seeing what looked like a shadow by the window. I pointed it out to Tsukiyama.

He shrugged. “It’s probably just your cat,” He paused, seeing my discomfort. “ _T’inquiete pas_ , she’s not here. This community’s gated.”

“That didn’t stop her leaving a decapitated cat in your pool and dismembering your best roses.”

“That was at my father’s estate, I’ve had nothing wrong here.”

“Hmmm. It’s just...If she's found me."

"Has she been messaging you?"

"Nonstop. Just sad face emojis and questions about where I am, what I'm wearing, who I'm with."

"Sounds a little obsessive."

"Duh. I haven't seen her in awhile either. Jesus fuck, if she's found me—"

"She hasn't. You're worrying over nothing."

I wasn’t. Because I saw her that very day. She showed up at one of my boxing classes—and the gym I worked at was literally right next to Genesis' house.

She didn't say much, just smiled at me. I managed not to freak, getting through the class.

She came to speak to me after. "I've decided not to kill them," She said.

I choked on my water. "Sorry?"

"The men that violated you."

"Oh," I'd almost forgot— _good_ —I moved, beginning to tidy up. "Uh. Well, OK. Why?"

"I'm trying to be a better person," She said. I noticed then how beautiful her posture was, how her petite frame resembled a graceful bird—a swan. "For you."

"Huh?"

She took my hand. "I want to be a better person. For you."

"But...You‘ve killed before, right?”

She was cool, shrugged. "What would you think of me if I had?”

"Depends why."

"It doesn't matter."

"It does to me. You asked me."

"That was a past me, Charlotte, someone you don't need to know. I’m changing.”

"So, you have killed someone? I don't think you can be a good person if you can't even tell me _why_ you killed someone."

"Because it's not important."

"It kinda is—"

"Don't you think I'm a good person?"

"I don't know ye—"

"God. You're such a fucking hypocrite."

"...Sorry?"

"You come at me for not being a good person, yet you're new ' _BFFs_ ' are all thrice as bad as me."

"What are you talking about?"

"Well, Doryo Fuyuhiko's a massive cunt, isn't he? Pretentious minimalist fag—"

"Don't call him that. I hate that word, and you’re—”

"Then there's Shuu Tsukiyama and Genesis Slawter. They're even worse. Not even real people— _ghouls_ ," She spat the word.

"That's different, who they choose to eat is their business."

"But it's not just to eat, is it? You stupid little whore. You have no idea what they do, _why_ , yet you'll willingly defend them over me."

"What are you talking about?"

"You're so fucking stupid. You don't even know your own so-called friends. They're worse than I could ever be—"

"Stop it. You don’t know anything about my friends.”

"Because you’ve been stupid. If you seriously think those monsters kill for food—Well, you’re even dumber than I thought. I thought you wanted to stay alive? For your goldfish? That's what you said to BFF-Tsukiyama. He was probably laughing inside whilst you fell for his bull—he could never care about you. He wants to kill you, probably can't wait to wrap his hands around that little neck, dig his teeth into that soft, smooth skin, or force his tiny dick into your throbbing—"

"Stop! Just stop, please. Stop."

She smiled. " _I_ could give you everything. _I_ don't want to kill you. _I_ love you. You need me. Listen to me."

She sounded like Erik. She had the same confusing mood-swings and resentment of the people around me. It was quite alluring. Comforting.

I paused, confused. My phone began to ring. Lyra picked it up and shot me a look. "Why the fuck is he calling you?"

"Who?

"Ryōma. That pervert. That lowlife. He's someone I'd happily murder, even with my goodness."

I was crying slightly, too confused to do anything else. "I-I don't know. He must want something."

" _You_. You know, you wouldn't get raped so much if you didn't dress like such a whore. You're asking for it really," She rejected the call, typed in my password. "And what you post on Instagram. I mean, you really don’t do yourself any favours. Look at this."

She showed me my latest post; of my arm over my bare breasts, my thong on display, pink lips at the top of the screen, blonde hair over my shoulder.

I shrugged. "I liked that photo—"

"So did several other people. See—Fuyuhiko, Tsukiyama, Ryōma...Aha! Pasha Sorokin! That doesn't surprise me, of course he would. Men are all pigs, Charlotte, believe me. I'd stop acting so desperate for their attention, you're guaranteed to get raped again."

"I've met some horrible women too."

"Women are just bitches—except me, and you, though you aren't acting like it right no—women are harmless. They can't rape you. They're just dumb."

"I don—"

I'm actually grateful Ryōma called again, I don't know what I would've said otherwise.

Lyra rejected it again, and went on my Facebook. "I wonder what your family would think if I sent one of these pictures, told them what a slut you're being."

"They know."

She toss r my phone at me. "I'm going now. You better start sorting your behavior out. You're being extraordinarily stupid," She kissed me, intensely gnawing on my lip, before leaving.

I put my hands to my lips, thinking I might've been bleeding. Ryōma was still calling, he'd been texting me too:

_fucking bitch_

_u went to the Chief LOL_

_omfg ur so fukin dumb_

_when r u coming back?_

_i need my flesh light back lol_

_baby_

_reply or i spill_

_answer me_

I replied with: _I'm not coming back. I got another job_.

Immediately: _lying cunt_

I _'m not coming back._

_then ill come to ur house_

_No._

_where do u live?_

_I'm not telling you. I'm not doing this anymore._

_well meet in a hotel then_

_No._

_ill tell everyone_

_You already have._

_ill tell ur school_

_ill ruin u little bitch_

_ill meet u in Shinjuku_

I didn't want to go, but what if he told my school? Ruined my career?

Lyra was right. I was being stupid—everyone was laughing at me. I was stupid. Erik would say the same—he’d make me eat soap and leave me out in the streets wearing my underwear. He used to do that to me when I did something wrong; like when I called him a twat and when I wore a bra to workout. After that he ignored me for two weeks, and that was when I tried to hang myself.

Anyway.

When it came to Ryōma, I didn’t have a choice. I hated him. I hated what he made me do. I just hated everything.

But he could ruin me if I didn’t.

So...

What was I meant to do?

~~

**I’m back again. Hi.**

**I again wanted to apologise for a lack in quality, this chapter was written in the middle of the Week From Hell, and has been edited more so than previous chapters.**

**I also would like to thank all of you for all the comments and support! It really means a lot and I’m trying to reply as much as I can, but I’m still finding my way around these websites lol.**

**I just wanted to come along and thank you all, that’s all—it really means a lot to me.**

**For more information about this story, (and so I can thank you all easier), please check out my Instagram or Pinterest: @stephpencils**

**Thank you for your support!**


	28. 28

** Chapter 28 **

"Does it hurt?"

"A lot."

"What does this one mean?"

Genesis’ hands hovered over my bare chest, nails brushing against the tiny frog holding a daisy between my breasts.

"Nothing. I just like frogs."

"They're ugly. You should cover up. Can I see your back?" She paused. "I don't like these as much. They’re creepy.”

"I do."

"I hate the centipede...And that on your your leg. What is it?"

"It's the calf muscle anatomy. I'm getting the arteries and veins on the other one."

She shuddered. "...I don’t know why you like gross things like that. You’re _supposed_ to be an angel,” She sighed, stretched, and chewed her pencil. "And I can't write today. It's your fault."

"What did I do?"

"Your breasts distract me."

“Isn’t that your problem?” Fuyuhiko called. Genesis glared at him.

"I'm tanning,” I said, secretly delighted by my affect on her.

"You don't need to tan your chest—"

"If you don't like it, move," Fuyuhiko sat up. "It's just boobs, Gen, you've got them."

"I don't see why she has to get them out every five minutes. No wonder you keep getting raped."

I froze, thinking back to what Lyra had said. I sniffed. "Fine...I'll move," I took my bra and walked off.

"Oh, Charlotte—" Fuyuhiko called. "You horrible bitch, Gen."

I went and sat next to Tsukiyama a little way further up the hill. He looked up from his book and gave a small smile.

We sat in silence for a bit, him reading, me watching the church from my seat, sun beaming on us both. "Tsukiyama...?" I asked, playing with my hair.

"Hm?”

"Are my breasts bothering you?"

He paused, as if only now noticing. "Not particularly."

That almost annoyed me. That I didn't affect him.

"Are you attracted to me?”

He blinked. "Where's this headed? Are you feeling okay? You ate earlier, didn't you?"

"I'm just interested, because I'm attracted to you. Do you think I'm pretty?"

"You're very beautiful— _parfait_ , even. _Bien sûr_ , I am attracted to you."

"Okay. That's good.”

"Sorry? _Pourquoi_?"

"Just...I’m glad I’m still attractive with all this weight gain.”

“Are you serious? You’ve hardly changed. You look much better—more muscular and you’ve got some colour back.”

I paused, picking at grass and looking for insects. I began thinking about what Lyra had said about Tsukiyama and Genesis. It probably just wasn't true, but it _could've_ been. "Hm."

"Charlotte! Are you alright? Sorry, that was a horrible thing for Gen to say," Fuyuhiko came over and sat in front of us.

"What? What happened?"

Fuyuhiko explained, Tsukiyama watching Genesis in the distance—as she rolled down the hill and made daisy chains.

"How rude," He said, hand on my shoulder. "That's absolutely disgraceful."

"Right? Fucking bitch."

"Calm down, Fuyuhiko. Charlotte, are you alright?"

"She's said it before. I've had worse. It's fine."

"It's not," Fuyuhiko snapped. "You shouldn't have to put up with it, and for what anyway? Because you're a prostitute? Because of how you dress?"

"I guess...”

"Speaking of your career," Tsukiyama put his book down. "I was thinking you might want a different night job; I mean, what you do now isn't at all mentally healthy—"

"It pays."

"Let me finish. My family happens to own quite a few companies in the ‘ _adult_ ’ industry, including a few clubs of your... _genre_ —"

"Strip clubs? Seriously?"

”You seem surprised."

"No, I just...didn't know. You could have told me that before."

“Yeah,” Fuyuhiko said. “And we go to one like, all the time.”

“Not me, apparently.”

“Yeah, why’s that, Shuu?”

“It’s Tsukiyama to you. I didn’t think she’d want to come. I imagine it’s rude to try and prostitute yourself in a strip club. Yes?”

I paused. “I dunno. That never happened at my old club.”

"I thought so. I thought, seeing as you're such a passionate dancer—and as you'd be very protected—you'd want to consider it. I can get you an interview with no trouble.”

I paused, taken aback.

"Which club are we talking about?" Fuyuhiko asked.

"Whichever one Charlotte wants. I'll get you an interview either way. My personal recommendation would be _La Sirène Mutilée_ —it's very secure and we go quite often. Though, Fuyuhiko hardly respects the art.”

“Uh, I do? There’s just not a lot of male strippers around.”

“They're respected clubs, chérie. You'd be very safe."

"Yeah, and celebrities go all the time."

"I'll think about it, thank you."

He paused. "Are you sure?"

"It's a new job, I wanna think about it first.”

"Fine. You should probably recover more before anyway. We can have a look when we come back from Odaiba."

"Huh? Odaiba?"

"Yeah, there's a party there this weekend, and I need to meet a client," Fuyuhiko lit a cigarette. "You're coming, right?"

"Of course she is,"

“Hold up a minute—I have fitness classes this weekend, and Pasha might need me."

"Tell him you can't. You don't work there anymore, do you?"

"No, but Pasha needs me."

"You have to come. I'm sure you can miss a few classes."

"Maybe. And I could gather some beach samples for my research project...Where’s the hotel? It has a gym, right? Because I _need_ to workout.”

“Yes, it does.”

“And someone to look after my animals.”

“Genesis gets a house-sitter. They’ll do it.”

“Maybe I could ask Pasha to look after them. I trust him...Fine. I'll talk to Pasha about it."

“Splendid! We leave tomorrow night, or rather the day after tomorrow; Fuyuhiko, what time was it again? We need to see the Rainbow Bridge at night—It’s simply _magnifique_.”

“Agreed. About half three. Get an early night.”

“Are we getting a bus?” I asked.

“I’m driving,” Tsukiyama said.

“OK,” I nodded, slightly unnerved by the fact that Tsukiyama would be taking us in his super-expensive, super-swish, super-clean car. “I’ll talk to Pasha.”

I had to go to the station to talk to Pasha, much to my dismay. I attempted to slip in and out unseen, but it was like Ryōma could sniff me out, and yet again, he took me to a backroom.

When he was finished and I’d composed myself, I ran into Lydia.

"Charlotte," She said, almost coldly, smiling sweetly. "Long time no see."

"Where's Pasha? I need Pasha.”

"I don't know. Why don't you ask Ryōma?" She said it in a way that made me want to vomit.

I pushed past. "I need Pasha."

She took my wrist, stared at me with those green, catlike eyes. Were they always so green? She was looking more and more like Lyra. "Ryōma wouldn't bother you if you—"

"Heard it millions of times—Mostly from you."

She paused, looked me up and down. "You've gained weight."

I blushed. Of course I had, I'd been eating more—only salads or almond yogurt and fruit—but I actually felt alive. The weight gain hadn't even been that that large. It was slow and steady. I looked basically the same, just more muscular. It still bothered me. The idea of not starving, of not being the skinniest in the room, the idea of not getting looks of horror and awe.

However, I was more sick of feeling dead, fuzzy and unattractive all the time.

"I'm recovering," I stated.

"You'd recover quicker if you still lived with me."

"I'm fine where I am. Excuse me, I need Pasha."

"He's with Morimine," Himari said, interrupting. Lydia released me. "I'll take you."

I followed, still awkward around Himari, but preferring her over Lydia.

"I wanted to talk to you about something," Himari said, brushing her hair behind her ear.

"Yes, what?"

"Lydia.”

"What about her?"

"You think she's got something to do with your stalker."

"Yes."

"They look similar, I think."

"You agree?"

"Duh. I knew there was something off about her from the start; I just didn't know what. When I heard you talking to Sorokin about it I did some digging, and I found—"

"Charlotte,” Pasha stated, towering above me with that gentle look on his face. "Why are you here?"

"I needed to talk to you."

He took my hand. "OK. Himari—"

"I'll talk to you later, Fisher."

"But—" She'd gone in a flash. I turned back to Pasha, who was dragging me down the hall to Lydia's office. "I don't like it in there."

"I know. You should not be here, after everything with Bessho and Ryōma. Honestly, that alone makes me want to quit. Sick bastard.”

“No, don’t quit your job because of me. I know I shouldn’t be here, but I just needed to know if you needed me or not."

"I don't know. Why?"

"Because I'm going to Odaiba this weekend. It'll be a hassle for me to get there and back quickly. Do you need my translations?"

He blinked. “Is that it?”

“You didn’t answer your phone.”

“Shit, sorry...Uh. Maybe. I'm trying to get ahold of the parents—have the prison contacted you yet?"

"No, they're late, but I can do a three-way call."

He nodded. "Then it's fine. You really did not have to come all the way here for that."

I shrugged. "I was passing. Also, I hate to ask, but I need someone to look after my animals, and Genesis needs a house-sitter—”

“Yes.”

“Huh?”

“Yes, I will look after your little ones. When are you going?”

“Friday morning. Oh. How'd it go with Oliver Gunnarson? _Again_."

"He's impossible to get ahold of, but we're handling it, no matter how forcefully."

"That man was terrified. You'll call me if you find him?"

“Of course...Uh. I've got a free hour, you wanna get coffee?"

I smiled. "Sure, but I have a spin class at four. Unless you wanna come?"

"Fuck no. I've heard about your spin classes."

"I thought you liked a challenge."

"I do, and I'll go some day, but I kinda wanna walk tomorrow too."

"Who told you my classes were that intense?"

"Lydia."

"Bu-But she hasn't been to any of my classes."

"She said she went to boxing, spin and yoga."

"Lyra goes to those classes."

"Not this again—"

"No, hear me out! Himari thinks it too. Pasha, tell me you can see how weird this is getting. It's too similar. They're the same person, or related at least—"

"They're not. This is getting ridiculous. We'd know if she was."

"Pasha, you're being stupid if you can't see how weird it is. Put her in a room with Gunnarson, see what happens. Talk to Himari about it. Listen to what I've told you— _really_ listen. There's something wrong with Lydia.”

He went to protest, but I was walking off. "Are you coming for coffee or not?" I called.

He changed his mind. I tried not to care, but I'd wanted to have coffee with him. I had coffee with Fuyuhiko and Tsukiyama instead, who let me do some studying at the table.

"So, what's your big project actually about?" Fuyuhiko asked, waiting for his latte.

"The effect of Wolbachia on the sexual performance and activity of hymenoptera, diptera, multiple species of woodlice, and their predators—specifically fish."

"...OK, what does that mean?"

"Wolbachia's a fungus, isn’t it?” Tsukiyama asked.

"Yes. Hymenoptera is wasps, ants, bees—it's a very broad term. As is diptera—flies and mosquitoes. The mosquitoes are quite vital. I should be able to collect some samples from the beach at Odaiba—and wolbachia’s very common, so I shouldn’t have any trouble.”

"I see. Anyway. About rooms, I've been thinking—" Tsukiyama started.

"I'm not sharing with Gen. I'd rather sleep outdoors," Fuyuhiko said.

They went on for a long time about bedrooms. They were still on about it when I was setting up for class.

"Riveting convo here guys," I'd said, checking my mic. "Been going on for almost half an hour now."

Fuyuhiko looked at me. "Charlotte, it's important. I don't wanna end up sharing with Gen."

"Just do boys and girls. It's not rocket-science."

"That's quite old-fashioned," Tsukiyama said, setting up his bike.

"Oi, you too tall to ride there. Get to the back."

"Fuyuhiko's here."

"He's shorter than you. You can come up front with me if you want, but you didn't like that last time."

"Because you were adjusting my resistance nonstop."

"Because you weren't pushing hard enou—" I noticed another person's presence.

Lyra, bleached hair in a bun, wearing a lilac outfit. People had started to come in already, but she stood out. Of course she did.

Tsukiyama gave her a dirty look as he went to the back, then looked back at me. Fuyuhiko was still waiting for me to finish my sentence, unaware of her presence.

She approached me. "Hi."

I gulped, smiling sweetly. "Hello," I wondered if she'd shout at me again, decided to act like nothing had happened. That's what I did with Erik, that's what worked with Erik. "You don't normally come to these."

She shrugged. "I need some stress relief."

"Sure. Uh, sit wherever," I stepped back, no idea what to do. She kept her eyes on me, got on the bike next to Fuyuhiko, who still had no idea who she was.

I had to start, so didn't really have time to process. I managed to keep my composure, though, honestly, fitness instructors have to be great actors. Spin classes especially—you just have to be super smiley, and make terrible jokes. That can be harder in longer classes like the one that day—an hour with Lyra watching me was hard enough, let alone on a spin bike.

Still, I smiled and sweated my way through with little incident, though Lyra's eyes didn't leave my body. All I could see was her hungry eyes in the class’s dark-light.

Yet again, she only spoke to me afterward, when I was speaking to a regular when she interrupted and seemed to silently bid my client away.

"Have you thought since our last talk?" She asked.

"About what?" I asked, towelling myself off.

"You know."

I didn’t, my brain was a little fuzzy, but shrugged. "Are you still mad at me?"

"Are you still being stupid?"

"I'm not stupid."

"Yet you still won't listen to me."

"Because...They're my friends—"

"They're not. I've told you. They're gho—"

"That doesn't mean they're horrible people. They need to survive too."

"It's not _just_ survival. Believe me."

"Why should I?"

"Because you trust me."

I didn't. "Lyra, please-"

"Don't fucking call me that."

"Then don't say that about my friends."

She inhaled shakily, her nose twitching. "I'm trying to help you, stop being so ignorant. If you don't believe me, google it."

"Google what? I've already researched."

"Search ' _ghoul restaurants_ ', then come back to me about your ‘ _friends_ ‘."

I paused. "Fine, I will."

"I'll call you later," She picked up her water bottle and left without another word.

"What was that about?" Tsukiyama asked, now suddenly next to me.

I jumped. "Oh. Uh. Nothing."

"It didn't look like nothing," Fuyuhiko said, chewing his nail. "You alright? I was trying to get over here but she moves fast."

"I'm fine. It was, uh, nothing. She was just asking about something."

"About what?"

"It's nothing. I'll handle it."

"Are you—"

“I have to go to yoga."

I half expected Lyra to show up at yoga, but she didn't. She kept texting me though, asking if I'd googled ' _ghoul restaurants_ ' yet, if I'd ' _come to my senses_ '.

I ignored it—I was going out that night, I didn't want her to ruin it. Though, I was quite tense that night—constantly looking over my shoulder, seeing her reflection in mirrors or wine glasses, hearing her voice in the crowd. Fuyuhiko gave me some edibles, which helped, but then Genesis forced me to do coke again and that just made it worse.

I remember crying in the toilets at three, having cut myself until I felt dizzy. Then Tsukiyama and Fuyuhiko had to come rescue me because the lock was broke and I got claustrophobic.

I remember crying in the car, Tsukiyama holding me and Fuyuhiko trying to calm me. Idon't remember anything else. I just remember waking up in Fuyuhiko's arms at Tsukiyama's house.

The window next to the bed was open, and a bird flew to it, watching me curiously. I don't know why I remember that so vividly. I also remember afterwards, after morning yoga, when I stumbled into the kitchen and found Tsukiyama making something. He looked up at me and bid good morning.

"Are you cooking?" I'd asked.

He nodded. " _Oui_ , I am. What would you like?"

"Huh?"

"To eat. What would you like to eat, _chérie_?"

"Oh, I'm not—"

"Don't give me that. You promised me you were eating more, or was that all a lie?"

I blushed. "No. I am eating more, it's just—"

"Well, what do you want? There's soup, grilled fish or rice and uni."

"I'm vegan.”

He paused. "Oh! How foolish, forgive me," He paused, almost as if he was embarrassed. He spoke in a quiet voice. "Forgive my ignorance, but what do vegan humans eat?"

"I can't have anything from an animal.”

He furrowed his brow. " _Honnêtement_ , you humans do like to complicate things. I'm rather glad I didn't eat you, excluding all that protein would you so _bland_. How foul. What do you normally eat?"

"I can get protein easily, _actually_. And at the moment I eat fruit, sometimes with peanut butter. It's difficult though because I don't like eating nuts—too many calories,"

He placed a hand on my head. "I thought you were trying not to worry about that."

"Trying. It's not something I can _just_ do. It physically disgusts me to eat.”

“How so?”

“The whole motion of chewing, swallowing—it’s nauseating.”

“I see. At least you're eating something. There's fruit in the garden, you can pick it yourself if you'd like."

"That sounds nice. Could you take me?"

He smiled warmly. " _Une minute_ ," He turned to the fridge, putting fish inside. I caught a glimpse of the inside—lots of fresh vegetables that wouldn't get eaten, and some kind of meat on the top shelf. It looked like an organ of sorts. I was reminded of what Lyra had said, and stared at Tsukiyama as he locked the fridge.

He looked back at me. "It’s rude to stare."

"Was that an organ?"

He shot me a look that made me shiver. "That's none of your concern. Come."

"I didn't mean to pry. I was just curious.”

“And what did that do to the cat?”

“...Isn't it suspicious having a lock on the fridge?"

"I tell people it’s an ageing fridge. And normally people aren't in the kitchen, _chaton_ , come on, or the birds'll get to your fruit before you."

I nodded, looking back at the fridge. I made Tsukiyama walk in front of me, now slight tense—though I was extremely reluctant to trust anything that came from Lyra.

He didn't seem to notice, chattering and showing me where to go. We sat in the rose garden after, me with a small selection of fruits, Tsukiyama still talking at me. He stopped, and picked something up from the floor. "How unfortunate," He said.

It was a dead butterfly. He held out his palm to show me, I pulled his hand to me and examined it. "That's a blue triangle. What a lovely specimen. It’s...perfect.”

It's wings were perfectly intact—which can be difficult with naturally dead butterflies—it was the perfect specimen.

I handed it back to Tsukiyama. "That's a brilliant specimen. I don’t have one in my collection.”

“Then keep it. You’ll pin it?”

“Mhm. Have you seen my insect collection?”

“I’ve seen the jars and...” He sighed and almost spat the next word. “ _Taxidermy_."

“The insects were in my bedroom. They’re at the old apartment now, but I can get them for you.”

He paused. “I only want to see the butterflies.”

“But I have other collections. You should see my tarantula skins—oh! And my cicadas. That’s not even mentioning the myriapods. Seriously, my millipede collection is quite fabulous, if I do say so myself. Though, myriapods aren’t actually insects...You must get loads of dead animals here.”

He nodded. "Yes...You haven’t seen my butterfly garden, have you?”

"You have a butterfly garden? OhmyGod, take me."

"Come along them," He put the butterfly down and offered his arm. I accepted and smiled politely, my tension eased by the subject of arthropods.

The butterfly garden was quite a large area, which delighted me. I smiled again. "Oh, it’s gorgeous."

He chuckled. "It's messy."

"It's natural. Wow. Look at that swallowtail—Byasa Alcinous, I believe,—Oh! Look—a peacock pansy! And there's another triangle. And look at those skippers—they’re excellent fliers, though—Look at that! The great purple empire! If you find a dead one of those, do tell me.”

Tsukiyama laughed. "I absolutely shall! Very excited, aren't we?"

"Terribly. Tsukiyama, it's wonderful. Look—Oh! That was an old world swallowtail—so big, and that's a beautiful cloudy yellow."

"You're excellent at naming them."

"Of course—I want to be an insect taxonomist."

"At a museum?"

"Or a zoo. As long as I'm with arthropods. Especially myriapods."

"Dead insects?"

"Well...Taxonomy isn't just about dead ones. Though, I do collect dead animals. Insects are easier because the dead ones pop up more often...And like I said, myriapods aren’t insects."

"You know, I know a place in Setagaya—they sell all sorts of dead things, and they do some rather pleasant coffee...Interesting books too.”

"Really? I haven't been to a taxidermy shop in years. That sounds awesome."

"Then we'll go. I'll take you when we get back from Odaiba—Oh! And you haven't been to the Imperial Gardens yet, have you?"

"No, but I've been meaning to."

" _Parfait_. We'll make a day of it!

I smiled. "Sure, I look forward to it."

"As do I. Now, _allez_ , you haven't even seen my butterfly garden yet."

I took his hand and followed him, feeling eased by his touch—a sharp contrast to that morning's unease.

I didn't know why I was so hung up on something Lyra had said. I mean, I had no reason to believe her of all people.

I felt that I'd know if Tsukiyama was truly terrible. He was a dear friend to me, even if he didn't see it like that, but I'd told him things I'd never told anyone before. I wouldn't do that with _just_ anyone.

In my mind, there was no way that Shuu Tsukiyama—that beautiful specimen—with his soft skin, feathery hair and bright clothing; there was no way he was the horrible monster Lyra made him out to be.

I was certain he wasn't. There was absolutely _no_ way.


	29. 29

** Chapter 29 **

We were being followed.

The same car—Lydia's car—had been following us all morning.

I noticed it first. I saw her green eyes glare at me, eyebrows raised by a strict ballet bun.

Tsukiyama had also noticed, and routinely checked the wind mirror. Genesis and Fuyuhiko were oblivious—immersed in their arguments.

My nails dug into my palm until I bled, the urge to cut swelling and boiling inside of me. Tsukiyama placed a hand on my knee—something he seemed to like doing—and told me to calm down.

"I need the toilet," Genesis declared.

There was a brief silence.

"Fine," Tsukiyama said. "We can stop."

I looked away suddenly, panicking. "But...we're almost there."

"I could do with a coffee," Fuyuhiko said. "And a piss."

I also needed the toilet, and I had to cut myself before I screamed, but what would she do then? Would she confront me again? Ruin our weekend? I didn't want to take the risk.

Tsukiyama did, however, and pulled into the next service station. We were still followed, and I was able to confirm the driver’s identity—Lyra, obviously.

I hesitated as everyone went inside, she'd stopped her car to look at me, realised I wasn't getting in with her. She started driving out, a look on her face that almost made me piss myself. As she left, I took a picture of her car. Pasha would have to believe me now.

Hesitantly, I turned and went inside. I stayed in the bathroom for a long time—until my arms tingled and I felt dizzier than usual.

Genesis had left me alone in the bathroom, which she'd specifically been told _not_ to do. I checked myself in the mirror, half-expecting Lyra to emerge from a cubicle and confront me.

She didn't. Surely she hadn't given up so weakly? I'd no doubt she'd bully me in text form later.

I made sure my arms were covered, my shirt sticking to my forearms, and went to find everyone.

Lyra didn't appear to follow us the rest of the way there, but Tsukiyama kept checking. I was worried even more, because she hadn't texted me and she always texted me when she couldn’t see me.

I began thinking of all the things she could be doing, and began shuddering. Why wasn't she texting me? Why couldn't I see her? Where was she?"

It was impossible not to think about, even when Fuyuhiko started pressing me about my ‘ _sexy Russian friend_ ’. I found myself pulling and ripping at the fresh cuts under my shirt, attempting to keep them open—to maintain the pain. Blood was dripping down my sleeves by the time we got to the Rainbow Bridge, and it didn't go unnoticed.

Tsukiyama had made us walk across the bridge—which I was happy with—so we got to see even more of the lights, even if Genesis complained the whole time. This was when my bleeding became noticeable, with the dried blood starting to smell also.

"Charlotte," Tsukiyama had nudged me; we were slightly ahead, Fuyuhiko admiring the architecture and Genesis complaining.

I looked up at him, the light of the bridge refracting in a way that reminded me of the Light District. "Yes?"

"You're bleeding. Quite a lot."

I looked at the blood drooling down my wrist and dripping onto the floor. I hadn't realised it was so excessive, but I wasn't panicked. The sight of it made me feel incredibly relaxed and safe— _warm_.

"What've you done to yourself now?" He handed me a handkerchief, but I didn't want to wipe it away. The sight of it was so alluring. Tsukiyama pulled me aside. "How bad is it?" He asked, sniffing.

“I'll sort it later. It's nothing."

"You've practically left a trail."

"I'll clean up later," I carried on walking, him attached to my side.

“I’ll help,” He took my hand and squeezed it. "Have you always self-harmed?"

"Uh, yeah. I started cutting when I was about eleven."

"Eleven?"

"I'd just started secondary school. I didn't make any friends, well...My friends were all insects or Trev, so I just—I don't know. I started pushing pins into myself, I liked it. Soon I needed something else, and I found a pencil sharpener, then disposable razors, then Erik gave me his razors."

"That doesn't surprise me. He sounds like a terrible man."

"Really? Right now?"

"Yes, right now,” I looked away, silently refusing to engage. He let out a sigh. "You could always try to stop hurting yourself, you know."

"I have, but even when I was healthier I couldn't stop."

"Couldn't or _wouldn't_?"

"Couldn't."

"You can't carry on forever," He squeezed my hand tighter. I remained silent, revelling in the sound of our footsteps on the bridge. "Do you think you need stitches?"

“Dunno."

"We'll have to bandage them when we get to the hotel–we can't have you getting an infection now, can we?"

I smiled weakly. "I guess not...But, uh, thanks for caring—or pretending too, anyway."

"I wish I was pretending."

"Huh?"

"Oh! Don't mind me, I'm just thinking out loud. Don't worry your pretty little head with it."

“OK."

"Have you thought any more about my job offer?"

"Uh, no, sorry. I'd like to have a look around though, and I'd like to know more about a potential dance schedule."

" _Bien sûr_ , I'll sort it," He placed his hand on my shoulder, I leaned into his arm, comfortable in the light breeze. "Oh, I meant to ask; how are your studies coming along?"

"Good. I'm all on my research project though, hopefully after that I can do my placement, then I'm doing my master's and PhD at Tokyo Uni."

"How brilliant for you."

"Have you got a placement after this year?"

"I did that last year."

"Are you doing a master's?"

"Perhaps. It doesn't really matter. I'll head father's company either way."

"Then why go to uni at all? Couldn't you just not do anything—go clothes shopping all day?"

He laughed. "Oh, I'd happily do so, but, _chérie_ , you know I'm no lightweight—"

"Your spin class effort says otherwise."

"Hush. But you understand, it'd make me look awful if I was just given the company. It's an enormous responsibility, you know, and I have to prove to my father that I can handle it."

I leaned further into him, wanting to see what he smelt like today. "I'm sure you'll be great. It's what you wanna do though, right?"

He nodded. "Absolutely, though I think I'd like to focus more on fashion. You could be my muse!"

"Me? A muse, really?"

"Charlotte, have you any idea how much you inspire me? You're a perfect model."

"You think? I'm pretty, but am I that pretty? Really?"

"Oh, of course. You're _parfait_!"

"Thanks. I'd love to be your muse."

" _Génial_! But you have to let me paint you first."

"I will," I exhaled deeply. "So, what's the plan for the next two days?"

"We'll discuss later."

I nodded, still leaning into him. "You smell nice. What is it?"

"It's a new Dior— _Oud Ispahan."_

I smiled. "I like it," I turned out, breathing deeply.

Check-in wasn't for a few hours, so when we finished the bridge we went and sat by the beach, planning our trip.

"What time's the party?" Genesis had asked. I was checking my phone—waiting on Lyra or Pasha.

"Starts at nine tonight, tomorrow at eleven, third day at sunset to sunrise," Fuyuhiko said. "I have to meet my client at lunch today, so I won't be back until like, five, so I'll probably just go for a walk or something—for inspiration."

"That's fine. Genesis, didn't your agent want to meet you here?" Tsukiyama asked.

I was getting frustrated, so I texted Lyra: _I'm going away for the weekend._

Immediately: _i saw_

_where?_

_u should've told me_

_why didn't u tell me?_

_why are u with them?_

_why won't u listen to me?_

_did u google it?_

_Charlotte_

I almost choked. I imagined her sitting in her car—Lydia's car—hunched over her phone, desperately refreshing her messages to see if I'd tried to text her.

I replied; _I just need some time. It's just a weekend._

Then; _where are u_

_Away._

_tell me where u are_

I chose not to reply, wondering why I'd even bothered.

"Charlotte?" Tsukiyama asked. I looked up. "What did you want to do? Whilst we're here?"

"Uh. I'd like to go to the science museum."

There was a pause. Everyone stared at me, Tsukiyama and Fuyuhiko smiled awkwardly.

"That sounds... _fun_ ," Fuyuhiko said.

"I don't want to do that," Genesis said. "Let's go shopping instead—"

"Genesis, if Charlotte wants to do it—"

"I'll go alone," I said. "It's fine."

"Oh, no, you shouldn't have to—"

"I'd actually prefer to do it alone."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes," I looked back to my phone. Lyra had already started the text-tornado. I winced, regretting everything.

Though, it was slightly reassuring. Her freaking out about where I was meant she hadn't followed us the rest of the way, which was greatly comforting. Well, it had been until we got back—but more on that later.

I turned off my phone and went to catch up with the conversation—I was there to enjoy a weekend with my friends away from Lyra, there was no point worrying. Though I'd missed all of the conversation anyway, and we all went to check-in—there was a huge fight in our room.

Tsukiyama had booked us the biggest room in the place, but it only had one bed (a super-king, mind you). This was fine with me, but Fuyuhiko and Genesis refused.

I went to the gym then—it was getting rather volatile and I found it petty. When I was finished my session, I got a phone call from Kumla prison.

"Hello?" I'd asked, wiping my face.

"Hello. This is Elias Larsson—I'm a councillor with Kumla prison—Is this Charlotte Fisher?"

"Yes, yes, it is. This is about Hugo Bergström?"

"Yes. Is now a good time?"

I looked around at the empty gym. "Sure," I sat on a bench, swigging water. "Is there a problem?"

"You wanted to speak to Bergström—about why he's here?"

"Yes. There are two ongoing investigations that we think could involve him—not directly, of course."

"Involving Lyra Svensson?"

"We think it's possible—I'm recording this, is that okay?"

"That's fine, but you understand, Bergström can't speak to you."

"Not today, no. Or did you mean, like, ever?"

"Herr Bergström won't speak to anyone he can't see—especially not a woman. You'd have to come here physically. We could arrange a meeting, if that's possible for you."

"I'd have to talk to my colleague. Why won't he talk over the phone?"

"He's been extremely paranoid ever since he got here, especially with women. I didn't think much of it at first—it's not uncommon in new arrivals, especially those who might be more unstable—"

"Like a murderer, you mean?"

"Right, but his paranoia hasn't seemed to ease."

"Does he have any other conditions?"

"He suffered from some severe depression upon arrival, also some long-term insomnia and possibly an anxiety disorder—unspecified as of now. I believe he's completely safe to visit though."

"OK, so if we went to Sweden to see him, it'd be fine?"

"Yes. I can arrange it for you no trouble."

"I'll talk to my colleague. Oh! You wouldn't happen to know anything about his son, would you?"

"He's mentioned him, but there's been no contact."

"Do you have his contact details?"

"Nothing, I'm afraid. Sorry."

"It's fine, thanks for calling," I finished up and went to call Pasha; he'd already sent me multiple texts that day—not in the same way as Lyra though. Pasha's texts were much less obtrusive—he'd ask me how I was feeling that day, if I needed to talk or if I'd ate and drank that day.

I texted him with; _Just called therapist at Kumla—bit of an issue with Hugo Bergström. Sending transcript in a minute. And I think Lyra tried following us this morning._

Then, five minutes later, I received; _ok i think she's still in the cgity_

_sry *city_

_im a lil busy rn...ill call later._

I shuddered. Pasha always made time to text me, and he was so sure Lyra was still in the city—but why? I knew something must've happened, something big. I checked the news—nothing.

I wanted to reply with millions of questions, but instead said: _No prob. Are u ok tho?_

_ya just busty_

_Lol, what?_

_i mean busy. am very busy._

_Okie. Pls be careful_.

I turned my phone off and pressed it to my lips. I showered and hovered in the lobby—too nervous to go upstairs and face all the petty arguing. I decided to text Fuyuhiko, telling him I was going to the science museum.

Obviously, I had boatloads of fun. At first I was nervous, because I was terrified of robots and anything else technologically advanced, but it turns out that they actually don't try to kill you. They're also so much easier to talk to.

They also gave me a new idea for a book— alien robots that are actually from an undiscovered reptilian race?

I think the fuck yes. Shame my agent didn't agree, eh?

I spent the whole day exploring. I went on this one tour all about cell research and ended up getting into a deep conversation with one of the guides about iPS cell therapy.

I'd just left the gift shop—I was in the cafe—when I got a call from Genesis demanding my presence. I went back to the hotel—Fuyuhiko and Tsukiyama both sulking in different rooms.

"What happened there?" I'd asked, as Genesis and I were changing.

"I don't know. Something gay, I guess."

"What's that supposed to mean—"

"You've gained more weight," She narrowed her eyes.

I went red, instinctively breathing in. I stared at my reflection—my body beginning to have shape, with muscles beginning to build. My weight gain was becoming noticeable, but I was still unhealthily lean.

"I'm recovering," I mumbled.

"Be careful."

That was what scared me. Not being careful. I feared I'd let myself become sloppy and unhealthy, which I didn't want.

"Maybe you shouldn't eat tonight," Genesis said, shrugging and slipping on her heels. She left, but I stayed in the bathroom for as long as possible—poking, prodding, measuring and weighing my body.

I wanted to rip my gained flesh out. I knew it was healthier than my almost-skeletal state, but I hated it. I hated being that little bit bigger. I hated the idea of my waist being over twenty inches, of not being able to count the ridges in my spine.

My outfit for that night had been something small, skimpy and beautiful, as usual, but now I felt like I had no right to wear it. I wore a pink sweater and cream tutu in the end, it was much less revealing, but I only really felt worse wearing it.

"You look nice," Fuyuhiko had said.

I shrugged. "I look fat."

I heard Tsukiyama gasp. "Charlotte, I thought we were done with this."

"Well, obviously she's not just gonna get over it that quickly," Fuyuhiko snapped. "You're still the skinniest person I know, and I know a lot of people."

At this, Genesis seemed to shoot Fuyuhiko a look, then look at me with narrow eyes. "Are you sure about—"

"Yes," Fuyuhiko tugged me closer to him. "Don't let her bother you. She's just as bad as you were two weeks ago."

I smiled, though didn't really feel assured. My confidence would only be destroyed even more later on that night.

We were at the party in Joypolis, Tsukiyama having left early on because, (and I quote), ' _I'd rather slit my throat than spend a night here_ '.

So immediately it wasn’t going well.

Then I was introducing myself to this guy—he owned some big quarrying company, I didn't really care. He'd asked what I studied and I told him—entomology in zoology and biochemistry.

He'd laughed, hand resting on my arse. "Really? You?" He looked me up and down. "I think you've got that wrong."

"No. I haven't. Why do you say that?"

"Well," He scoffed. "Scientists don't look like _you_."

"What do scientists look like, sir?"

"Female scientists don't look like this. I work with them."

"I'm the only woman in my class, so enlighten me, please."

"You're too distracting, sweetheart."

"That's not my problem—my looks have nothing to do with my scientific skill."

It went on for ages. It was a conversation I'd had loads of times with men and women; a conversation I still have now, because to some people, the idea of a (gasp) female scientist that acts traditionally feminine is insulting.

This is more prevalent in my peers—not only was I the only female in my class, but I was also subject to certain abuse. I've been told to get in the kitchen, that I'm too prissy for certain jobs. I've been threatened; my samples were once urinated in, and I remember a particular incident where my samples of blowfly larvae were stepped on, in few view of my professor. The perpetrators received no punishment, but I had to start again with no help.

That's why I preferred online learning. In fact, I feared going to Tokyo Uni, for I knew the same fate awaited me.

But what could I do? I couldn't speak out, else I'd be a snowflake, an SJW, the ' _reason nobody takes feminism seriously_ '.

Anyway, enough of that.

My night would only get worse.

"What a dick," Fuyuhiko had said, arm around my waist.

I rested my head on his shoulder. "Yeah...I think I might go."

"You're leaving me here with Gen? With a rollercoaster present? I don't think that's safe."

"Sorry. I just...I don't feel up to anything right now."

"It's cool, I was kidding. Oh, I got you something," He handed me a pack of sour gummies. "It's vegan—strawberry. They used to help me when I was recovering—don't worry, they're like, super safe."

"I see. Thank you," I smiled. I'd never really considered edibles for anxiety before, but I'd heard cannabis could be beneficial. What was the harm?

It took a while to kick in. I was just sulking on the beach when I felt a little calmer—as if a veil had been lifted and I could think clearer. My anxieties replaced by comfort and assurance.

It wasn't like coke at all. It was like a small lift to clear my thoughts. I hoped it wouldn't make me sleepy.

I found myself taking a walk, to reflect with my clear mind. As I walked, I found Tsukiyama doing the same, and trotted over.

This is where everything went wrong.

"Hi. Are you alright?" I asked.

He nodded. "Yes, just...thinking," He didn't seem alright. I smiled softly, taking his hand. He shook his head. " _T'inquiète pas_ , I'm just in a low mood. Like you. How are you feeling now?"

"Fine, Fuyuhiko gave me edibles."

"Oh, that's—That could be beneficial."

I nodded.

"Why are you out here? I'd thought you were the kind of person that liked rollercoasters and such."

"Not really, but I think I’d like to go another night, if I felt up to it. Besides, there was this sexist arsehole there. I don't want to talk about it."

He nodded. "Shall we sit down?"

"Sure," I let him lead me to a bench. I breathed in the fresh sea air, leaning my head on his shoulder.

"I didn't mean to leave you alone earlier. I'm terribly sorry."

I shrugged. "It's fine. I had fun on my own. Besides, I wasn't alone, there were friendly robots everywhere."

"I thought you were a biologist, not an engineer?"

"I am, but like...robots."

My phone beeped. I jolted up, thinking it was Pasha. It wasn't—It was Lyra. I sighed and turned it off.

Tsukiyama smiled. "Was that her?"

"Mhm," I found myself thinking about what Lyra had said about Tsukiyama. I decided the best thing was to ask him about it. There was no harm in that, surely?

"Can I ask you something?"

" _Bien_ _sûr_ , whatever you want."

"Okay, well, Lyra told me something about you the other day, and I—"

"You shouldn't worry about anything that woman says."

"She told me you had something to do with ' _ghoul restaurants_ ', and I tried researching—"

"That's got nothing to do with you."

"You’re something to do with me. You’re very important to me, and was I found online about it was disturbing, albeit conspiracy theories. I'm sure it is nothing, but...I just wanted to ask."

"Why worry if it's just a conspiracy?"

"Because Lyra said—the things she said about you and Genesis...She made you sound like monsters. I'm sure that's not true, because we're friends—"

"We're not friends, you’re my little _chaton_ , and like a _chaton_ , you’re being too curious.”

"Please stop interrupting me, I'm just trying to clear something up," I snapped. "I don't want to believe Lyra, really, I know you're not a monster. Just please, please tell me you don't..."

"What? Don't do what, Charlotte?"

"...It said it was like some kind of—I don't know— _theatrical_ thing. I'm sure that's bull, but you’re right—I’m curious. You understand, killing something for food and killing for entertainment are _very_ different."

"How so?"

"One's cruel, one’s necessary. I believe all beings are deserving of a swift and purposeful kill. So don't get me wrong, if you were a human doing this sort of thing to cows or sheep—I'd be doing asking the same," I paused. I hadn't expected this kind of reaction from him, it was a little scary. “But it doesn't matter, does it? Because it's not true, right? Or, you don't do that, do you?"

A slight hesitation. "Of course not. It's nothing more than conspiracy. I'm offended you think I'm capable of that kind of thing."

"No, I was just asking. I didn't mean to offend you," I touched his hand, which he quickly moved away.

"I can't believe you trust _her_ over me."

"I don't! Please, you're jumping to conclusions. I just wanted to clear it up...Besides, that's missing the bigger point—how does Lyra know you and Genesis are ghouls?"

"Did you tell her?"

"No, why the fuck would I? She must've found out when she was following you."

"Then why is it only coming up now? She hasn't followed me in months."

I hesitated. "Well, then I don't know."

"You should've asked."

"Sorry, I didn't. I just...I shouldn't have brought it up, sorry. It must be so hard for you, constantly having to control and hide yourself, it must feel awful. I didn't mean to accuse you of anything, I understand why you don't want to talk about it."

"How could you possibly understand?"

"Sorry, bad wording. I'm _trying_ to understand," I paused. "Look, Tsukiyama, I don't want to hurt or expose you or anything. I just want to get closer to you. I want to be your friend," I touched his leg, he shot up with a wave of sudden anger I hadn't expected.

"You think I'd want a friend like you? Look at you! You're an embarrassment."

I blinked, taken aback. "Huh?" He was shouting, and I do not like being shouted at. I backed up, feeling my arms turn to liquid.

What if he hit me? Or raped me? I was utterly defenceless against him. I felt my body begin to freeze up.

"You have no right to ask about such things. _None_."

"I'm...so s-sorry—"

"Stop apologising, it's incredibly annoying. Besides, you say it so much, it’s obvious you don’t mean it. Don’t insult me even more, Charlotte.”

“I’m not insult—”

”Don’t start crying—honestly, you're like a little child—so _weak_ and needy, and selfish—"

"That's ironic, coming from you," I snapped, hands shaking violently as I told myself to shut up— _shut up, he'll rape you, he'll rape you and then he'll rip out your throat_.

"Is that how you talk to your _friends_?"

"Well...We're not friends, are we?" I felt hatred rise in my voice, heard the awful sound of it mixing with my tears. "If I'm so needy, childish, and selfish, why would we be friends? If I’m not good enough for you. If you find me that unbearable—if you hate me that much—why didn’t you say sooner? Then I could’ve spent my time with someone who _actually_ liked me, who _actually_ wanted to be my friend. But no, I got _you_. So, Tsukiyama, why wait until now to tell me of my great issues? Why now?”

The voice in my head was telling me to stop, begging.

He paused as if taken aback, before laughing slightly. "You’re hilarious Oh, are you going to cry now? Please—if you think that childish act is cute, you're terribly mistaken. We can all see through it."

I shut up, biting my tongue. I sniffed, digging my nails into my palms. I didn't want to say anything else I'd regret. Perhaps this was a bad mood—I prayed it was—maybe our relationship was salvageable.

He got closer, and I felt a deep rage bubble up inside of me. "Even Genesis is sick of you. The only one that actually likes you is Fuyuhiko, and he's just as embarrassing. Him and your sad little Russian friend,"

He carried on, but I didn't listen. I just interrupted him. "I don't deserve this," I said.

He laughed. "You asked for it, _chérie_."

I paused. "I hate you right now. I really fucking do," I sniffed, rubbed my nose. "Lyra was right. You're just like all those other men. You make me think you care and then you ruin me. She was right. You’re a monster.”

"How could you say that?” I am a respected member of society, I—"

"Then act like it. Grow up, Tsukiyama, grow the fuck up. I just wanted to be your fucking friend. And I really thought you were—Urgh. It doesn't matter anymore. I just asked a simple fucking question. I don't deserve to be spoken to like this."

He went to speak, but turned and left. "Where are you going?" I called, not really caring. He didn't say anything. I sighed, then turned and walked towards the sea.

I considered it. The emotions inside distorting all rationale. Would tossing myself in be easier? No, that was silly. It was just an argument, right? It could be salvaged, couldn't it?

At that moment in the time, I didn't think it could be salvaged, and that gave me an empty feeling. Perhaps I'd considered us more than friends.

As usual, I'd overstepped my mark. I'd fucked up. It was my fault, even if I'd blamed Tsukiyama. This was why I didn't make friends. This was why I was destined to be lonely.

I sobbed silently, staring at the sea, memories of the argument coming back. I shut my eyes, but was greeted by images of August 2004.

I whined, hand on my head. I wanted to be sick. I didn't know what to do.

I looked at the seafront. Tsukiyama was gone. I didn't know where. I admit, I worried he might attack me from the darkness. I decided to race to the hotel, planning to lock myself in the bathroom.

The room was pitch-black. It was empty and desolate. Lonely.

I found found comfort in the cold loneliness of the room. It felt familIar.

I didn't turn the light on. I went to the bathroom, locked the door. I couldn't find my blades—Tsukiyama had confiscated them after that morning.

I rooted through his things, eventually smashing a bottle of that fucking perfume he loved so much. I realised the golden opportunity I had.

I breathed calmly, picking up the glass. Whilst I did so, I saw the holographic glint of Fuyuhiko's butterfly knife in his bag.

My breath caught.

He must've forgotten it—he always had it with him, he said he'd been attacked before. He wouldn't notice, I decided, I was good at cleaning up.

I sat, cross-legged on the floor. I organised the glass pieces by sharpness.

Then I picked up the butterfly knife, and started to cut.


	30. 30

**Chapter 30**

“Holy fuck."

We both froze.

There was a clang as I dropped the knife. I stared down, unable to look at Fuyuhiko, who was standing in the bathroom doorway.

I waited for him to shout at me. To hurt me. I even imagined he'd take the knife and stab me.

He stared at the blood, the knife, my arms and legs, then at me. He took a cautious step inside, "Okay. Fuck. OK. Can I come in?"

I stared at him, unmoving.

"Charlotte? I'm just coming over. Just gonna get this away from you," He kicked the knife away from me, "Okay. Charlotte? Say something, please."

My throat was dry, "Sorry."

"Don't apologise. You haven't done anything. Come on, let me see.”

He wasn’t mad at all. He cleaned and bandaged up my arms, gave me icy water and lemon to suck on. He said the knife didn’t matter—it could be replaced, but I couldn’t.

He called Pasha for something then, I think so he knew what he was doing. Or maybe it was to flirt—I didn’t really listen.

After that, he filed my nails down and we watched a terrible horror film with fruit and popcorn. During the film, I told him about what’d happened with Tsukiyama.

“You had a fight? That explains it then...” He said.

“Explains what?”

“I got pissed off with Tsukiyama. He was being a bit of a dick, you know? He must’ve just been upset.”

“Sorry.”

"For what?"

"Well, I had a fight with Tsukiyama earlier, and that's why he was angry, and that ruined your night, and that means—"

"Hey, calm down. I don't care. Nothing's ruined. It was a dumb fight—you haven't ruined anything," He smiled, stroked my hand, "Is that why you did this? Because of your fight?"

"...I know that's really stupid—because it was just a fight—but I was so angry and confused—and I know it'll blow over but I just had to—"

"Get things out? It's okay, I get it. It's not stupid at all,” He paused, “Did what he say hurt you?”

“It was my fault.”

“Not everything is your fault, but he upsets people when he’s angry. Like, _a lot_. And I know you're sensitive, but he doesn't mean it, not really.”

“Then why say it at all?”

“Because he’s angry, I guess. Anyway. My point is; don't listen to anything Shuu Tsukiyama says when he's angry. It's not worth it."

"OK.”

"But I'm sorry if he hurt you."

“You’re not the one that should apologise. Tsukiyama and I upset each other, I’m just the one stupid enough to hurt myself afterwards.”

“It’s not stupid. I used to do it—I know how much it can help, but it sucks, doesn’t it?”

“Yes...It’s like I want to stop, but I can’t, because it helps, and it feels so good. And seeing my blood, the damage, I just think; _it’s what you deserve_. But I hate myself for doing it. I really do.”

“You’ll get through it,” He took my hand, “I promise. And I’ll help as much as I can. But for now, I think we should focus on you eating more—let’s take it one thing at a time.”

“Yes?” I smiled, "Thanks for taking care of me. You didn't have to."

"I wasn't gonna leave you like that, was I?” He squeezed my hand and turned back to the film.

I fell asleep through the second film, and woke up in bed, with Fuyuhiko snuggled into me. I kissed his forehead and whispered a thank you, before going to the gym.

When I returned, Fuyuhiko was out on the balcony, fully dressed and on the phone. He was giggling and I could see him smiling. Seeing him smile made me feel warm inside. I was glad that he had someone to talk to.

"Anyway, thanks for helping. I didn't mean to disturb you, it's just you've helped Charlotte with her bad moments before and—Oh, you're so sweet. Thanks, Pasha. I'll tell her to call you, I swear—Okay. Thank you."

He came in, smiling to himself. He looked at me, "Fucking hell! You scared me. I was worried about you.”

"Sorry. I was at the gym. Was that Pasha?"

"Yeah. I couldn't find you and I was panicking, and he called to check on you, and he said you'd be at the gym and yeah, I just got distracted. Shit, that's awful, you could've been struggling and I just got distracted like that. I'm sorry."

"It's fine. I'm fine."

"How are you feeling?"

"Sore. The others aren’t back yet?”

“They’ll come back. Don’t worry. Now, I'll change those bandages and we can get breakfast.”

I sat, worrying about Genesis and Tsukiyama. Ryōma was texting me. He sent me three dick pics, all after I told him not to. It made me physically sick.

I tried digging my nails into my palms, but it didn't hurt, so I bit my knuckles. Fuyuhiko saw and gasped. "No! Stop that! Stop, stop, stop! I can't file your teeth away! Stop!"

He removed my hand, looked at the vomit in the bin, he pulled me into him, "What happened? What's all this?"

"Nothing—"

"It's something to me. What's up?"

I don't know what happened. I don't think I wanted to tell him. Or at least, I didn't mean to tell him _everything_.

I just started telling him about Ryōma, then about the other Incidents; about August 2004, about Erik. It just all came out.

He stared at me when I'd finished—and I was panting; I felt like I'd just ran a marathon. He took my hand, "Well. That was a lot."

"Sorry."

"No, it sounded like you needed that. I knew you had issues, and I mean, you're a very attractive woman who's a sex worker with terrible mental health—so I kinda assumed you'd had sexual...uh..."

"Issues?"

" _Issues_ , yes. I assumed so, but I had no idea it was that bad. Have you told anyone else?"

"Not like that. I told Tsukiyama about August 2004, and that it had happened again, and I told him about Erik, but he didn't like that."

"Didn't like that? What do you mean?"

"He doesn't like how I think about Erik. He thinks I was groomed and that Erik was an abusive pedophile."

“Well...he was. But more on that later. Anyone else?"

"Pasha knows a bit. I'd like to tell him, but he'd just worry about me and I'm not worth that."

"Your family?"

"They think I'm a slut anyway; they wouldn't care."

"I'm so sorry you've had to go through all of this. That you had to keep it quiet for so long. That must've been so, so awful. I can't even begin to imagine what that must feel like. Like, it really means a lot that you feel you can share this with me. Thank you."

"Thanks for listening, and for cleaning me up last night. I'm sorry you have to deal with my shit."

"I don't mind it at all; as long as you're safe."

I sniffed, "You're a good friend, Fuyuhiko—"

"I know, right? And you can call me Dory, you know. We’re passed surname basis by now, right?”

"Yes.”

The door unlocked and Genesis traipsed in, we had a slurred conversation–in which she revealed that she'd had an argument with Tsukiyama–and then she went to bed.

I ate what I could, but was starting to worry about Tsukiyama, who I hadn’t heard from at all.

I hadn't meant to hurt him, what if something awful happened to him and it was all my fault? What if he did something awful to someone and it was my fault?

I wondered if I should go and look for him; I had to apologise. I had to make sure he was OK, that he hadn't done anything stupid.

"Where do you think Tsukiyama is?" I asked, cutting up an apple.

"Don't worry about him," Doryo shrugged and picked at his fish, "But back to you...what now?"

"Huh?"

"You told me all that stuff. What happens now? What do we do?"

"Nothing."

"You need help. Not necessarily from the police, but like—"

"I have my way of dealing with it and this is it."

"OK, I respect that you think that. However, I think we should consider some kind of mental support."

"No thanks. I can handle it on my own."

"But that's not fair. Look, I really want you to help you, and I'll give you whatever support you need—"

"Thank you, but there's a lot going on right now. I'd rather get some of that sorted before I go further with recovery. One thing at a time, right?”

"Right, sorry. I just—I worry.”

“I know, and I appreciate that,” I returned to my apple, and thought about what we were doing that day.

I'd made plans that afternoon with Tsukiyama, but they'd obviously fallen through. I decided to go alone instead, which was objected too at first, though Dory let up eventually.

I returned early, so worked out and went to do some work on the beach. It was then that Pasha called.

"I'm sorry," I'd said, "I was supposed to call you."

"Yes, but it's okay. How are you doing, pigeon? I was worried."

"It was nothing."

"I heard otherwise."

"It was stupid, but I'm fine now. How's Trev?"

"She's fine."

"And you?"

"It has been hell."

"What happened? I got your texts."

"You first. What happened with the prison?"

I told him, receiving a short silence in response.

“Okay..." He said, "It's possible. We could arrange that."

"You shouldn't have to though, right? I mean, if Oliver Gunnarson's gonna talk, he could tell you everything Bergström can. _Maybe_."

"That's not possible."

"Why? What do you mean?"

"I shouldn't tell you."

"You can't just leave me with that cryptic message. It’s not like he’s dead or anything, is it?"

Silence.

"Shit, really? Christ, Pasha," I said, "How? Who?"

"Oh, fuck it—Suicide," He said, lowering his voice, "So far. We don't know where Kristin is either."

"When?"

"Yesterday."

"Holy fuck...What should I tell the prison?"

"That I'll call back—when you get back."

"Is everything else alright?"

He paused, "Himari went to IA."

"About Lydia?"

"Yes, and Ryōma, and the Chief. She overheard him attacking you, and—"

"No, she can't do that...Right? That's my business—"

"It wasn't just about you. Apparently, Ryōma used to do the same thing to her, and she's gay, so it might get looked into more seriously—"

"As opposed to me? I'm not exactly straight either. Why am I less than her?"

"You're not... _normally_ , but Himari's more respected here, you know that. And honestly? I don’t think it’s being taken seriously...I’m sorry."

"I knew they wouldn't. Ryōma sent me three dick pics this morning, God knows what else."

"Is there anything I can do?”

“No, thanks.”

"OK, tell me if I can do anything...And um, Has she texted you recently?”

"No. Not since yesterday, and I haven't seen her since yesterday. I think she went back. I got a picture of her car. Lemme send it...You got it?"

"Yes. Charlotte, that's—"

"Lydia's car, with Lyra driving it. I told you something wa—"

"I have to Himari this. Where was it?”

I gave him the service station name and he rushed away to speak to Himari. I put my phone away and got back to work.

I met back up with Dory and Genesis in our room. We had another party, though I didn't really feel up to it.

I stayed behind a bit with an edible—I went for a swim and did yoga, then went to meet them. Honestly, I was only going to have sex with someone. I hadn't had sex in over twenty-four hours and I was starting to lose it.

I made sure to dress impeccably. I found myself liking my new appearance—the little weight I had gained made me look and feel somewhat human again. My muscular physique was starting to return, and I was very glad.

Obviously, I got loads of attention almost immediately. It was a huge high, and I felt almost clean, new; _invigorated_.

I couldn't find Genesis or Dory anywhere though, I would've panicked, but I felt so relaxed—it was impossible to panic. When I'd finished, I decided to walk back to the room; if they weren't there I could text.

However, I found myself jittery on the walk home.

What if someone followed me? Attacked me? It'd happened before. Why not now, when I felt relaxed and calm? That was the perfect time to do it, wasn't it?

I started walking quicker, stumbling. There was someone following me, there had to be.

My heart was pounding. I wanted it to slow down, why wasn't it slowing down? I was panting too, I felt like I couldn't breathe; I was suffocating.

I just kept walking. I had to get away, I had to get to safety.

I searched my bag, frantically. I got my phone out and cursed myself for not getting some kind of self-defence.

I was a small attractive young woman that was walking to a hotel, alone, at night. Why hadn't I brought protection?

I fell, whimpering, my heart beating too fast. I sat on the floor, hand on chest, wheezing and sniffling. I wanted to stand up, but my heart was beating so fast, I couldn't think about anything else.

I felt like it had gone on for hours. I don't know how long it lasted, how long I sat there wheezing. I don't even know when it stopped.

The next thing I remember is the morning. I awoke next to Dory again, Genesis tucked under my arm.

It was our last day, so the three of us were stuck together that day. We did a few things, though Genesis complained at basically everything.

At midday, I went back to the room to get something. When I was going back to see Genesis, I saw Tsukiyama hovering outside. He ignored me, but I wasn't having that.

"Tsukiyama, wait!" I called. He looked away, nose tilted up. I ran in front of him. "Absolutely _not_."

" _Excusez-moi_ , but you’re in my way, _chérie_."

"Good. Where the fuck have you been? Do you have any idea how worried I was?"

"Worried, _really_?"

"Yes. You left without a word, pissed off Doryo and Genesis, and no one’s seen you since."

"That was the idea."

"I needed to speak to you."

" _Pourquoi_? To accuse me of something else?"

"I haven't accused you of anything. I wanted to apologise, but if you're still upset, them I'm not gonna get hurt again because I tried to apologise. I even got you a present," I turned to leave.

"Hold on," He said. I stopped. "What kind of present?"

"Flowers.”

“What kind?”

“Lily of the Valley.”

He smiled slightly, “Ah, how ironic.”

“Why? What do they mean? Not death, right?”

“Chastity. Purity. Humility. A ‘ _return to happiness_ ’.”

“Well, that _is_ ironic.”

“Why did you get me flowers?”

"Because I wanted to apologise. I wanted to have a civil conversation with you, where we discussed things like adults...but if you don't want that—"

He took my arm, "No. You're right. I'm being terribly unpleasant. Go ahead."

"You just want the flowers."

"No, I want to discuss this with you. Go on.”

"Good. Fine. Yes," I nodded, straightening. "I'm sorry if I offended you the other day, I truly didn't mean to. I'd just been told something—and yes, by an unreliable source—but I can't just let that kind of thing go. I have to ask these things, else I worry and the accusation gets worse and worse in my head and then I would really have been out of line. I'm sorry...And honestly, I'm not used to having friends, especially not male friends. So I know it's wrong—but sometimes I worry that these relationships are only so you can have sex with me. Sometimes I worry that you're lying about...well, everything. So, you have to understand why that kind of claim would be something for me to check out, right?"

He sighed. "I'm not that degenerative, _chérie_."

"I wasn't saying you were—"

"But I appreciate you have... _issues_. I simply forgot in the heat of the moment. I assumed you were accusing me of something. That was incorrect and terribly distasteful of me, so I too apologise."

"Thank you. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable, but you also didn't have to go off like you did. As much as I made you uncomfortable, what you said was cruel, it wasn't fair, and it hurt me. I didn't deserve that."

"... _Non_ , I suppose you didn't. I'm terribly sorry. Can you ever forgive me?"

"Do you forgive me?"

"Yes. _Oui_. I do. It's only fair."

"Thank you, then yes, I'll forgive you," I took his hand and we shared a smile. I felt some warmth swell inside of me—as though it was OK now, even though we’d only had one conversation.

"Well, I feel slightly better now. _Merci_ ," He said.

"Me too. Though, maybe we shouldn't talk about that stuff anymore. I mean—ghouls and humans. It's not my business and it's not yours. We have different issues that neither of us can understand, and I think we both have to respect that; despite our curiosities."

”Perhaps you're right. This relationship may work better without that sort of talk. That is, if you think you can work without it."

"I wouldn't have suggested it otherwise," I shrugged, "Did you have plans for today?"

"No, I was just going to get my things."

"Don't leave yet. We should do something together."

"We’re going out together when we get back to Tokyo, remember?”

“We can do that too.”

“Well, what did you have in mind for today?”

"Nothing, you choose. I have yoga with Gen now though, do you want to come?"

"Oh, I think she's still quite angry with me."

"Just talk to her. It worked with me, didn't it?" I smiled, "But I have to go. If you're not coming, then meet me here later."

He did show up, and it did not go well. At all.

The initial session was fine, though the separation between Genesis and Dory and Tsukiyama was obvious, even for me. As the teacher, I have to focus on each student individually, so I hadn't thought it would've bothered me. But fuck me, it was tense. Not even advanced stretches and deep pranayama could take the edge off.

Dory and Genesis waited for Tsukiyama to leave, and when he didn't, I explained that we were going to do something together, and they were more than welcome to come.

Dory shrugged, said it was fine. What were we doing? But Genesis didn't like that at all.

"Are you serious?" She'd asked.

"About what?"

"Gen, for fuck's sake—" Doryo started.

"She can't do that, Dory. How could you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Betray us like this."

"Betray you? What the fuck are you on about?"

"He hurt us—we're not talking to him—how could you do that? You're not supposed to do that."

"Gen, don't be so childish."

"I'm not being childish. She's a traitor. She chose him over us. Are you just gonna ignore that?"

"You're being insane. She's just trying to make sure we actually all enjoy this holiday, like we're supposed to."

"Yes, and we couldn't, because of _him_."

"So, I'm supposed to isolate someone over some silly fights that've already cost us almost two days?"

" _Yes_."

"I'm not doing that. Tsukiyama and I have made peace with each other, I'm not asking you to do that. I just wanted to know if you wanted to come."

"And that's fine," Doryo said, getting closer to me, "Look, forget this—she'll forget all this in the morning. You go with Tsukiyama, I'll handle Genesis."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, go on. This way we can all enjoy our last few hours here."

"Not you."

"I’ll be fine. Just go and have fun.”

I did, though I can’t remember what we did, only that it made our argument feel nonexistent. I’m glad I went with him.

I’d thought the journey back would be awkward, but Genesis slept through it, so it was fine. We got back to Adachi late, so the street was incredibly dark. It was eerie, to say the least.

After waking Genesis, we went to the church house. Immediately, I knew something was off.

Genesis threw herself on the sofa and called out to me.

I was sorting our stuff out. I distinctly remember hanging up Genesis' white fur and my red coat.

I noticed a third coat though. Similar in style to my red one, it was bright lemon, cotton, petite, with engraved silver buttons.

I picked it up, sniffed it— _citrusy_ —too big to be Genesis', and she only wore white, black, red or gold.

Perhaps Genesis had bought something out of her comfort zone? No, it hadn't been there when I left. It was too bright to ignore.

There were also some heels—Chanel—and a purse—Saint Laurent—I didn't recognise. Though, I knew Genesis must've had multiple of each,

I heard a noise, flinched. It was just Genesis going to the freezer.

"Charlotte!" She called out.

"What?"

"Did you eat my ice cream?"

"I hate ice cream,” I thought this was another jab about my eating more, but it wasn't.

"It's gone. And all the Prosecco!"

"I don't like Prosecco either. Maybe Pasha—No, he doesn't drink. Maybe his girlfriend was here?"

I turned on the TV. Someone had been watching _Black Swan_. I chewed my lip. That film had always been special to me. My first real girl-crush was on Natalie Portman, and the film held the awkward memories of sexual-awakening, so I could struggle to watch it.

I paused it and looked in the bin, Genesis was still shuffling around. There was an ice cream carton and Prosecco bottles in the bin—unorganised.

"Found your stuff," I said. I checked my own foods—my dark chocolate was untouched, but my peanut butter and oats had been demolished. That could easily have been Pasha.

I looked around, "This place is filthy," I picked up something gold from the floor—a brooch of a swan. I turned to Gen and asked about the coat.

"Lemon? No. But _you_ wear lemon."

"I wear every colour. There’s also a bag and—"

We both froze.

A noise from upstairs. The sound of someone climbing up the ladder to the attic—my bedroom.

"There's someone here," Genesis whispered.

"Go to Tsukiyama's," I whispered back.

"What? No—"

"I'll be right behind you."

"What are you doing?"

"Getting my phone. Just go,” I grabbed my bag and the lemon coat, called Aqua and scooped her into my arms.

I snuck outside, seeing Genesis talking to Dory. I turned back to the church.

There was a woman in the attic window.

I gazed into the emerald green of her eyes. She smiled thinly at me, and waved.

Then she turned, and slunk off into the darkness.


	31. 31

** Chapter 31 **

"There's no one in there."

"I saw her," I protested, my hands shaking furiously; but out of fear or the cold? "I gave you the coat; it's hers. I'm telling you, she was in there."

"Well. No one's there now," The responding officer was being terribly unhelpful. They were also quite rude, especially to me.

I'd called Pasha, and at that moment he arrived with Himari. I turned away from the responding officer and waved to Pasha.

Dory gasped, "OhmyGod, it's him. OhmyGod, I knew he'd own a leather jacket. Damn. Look at how he’s tied his hair back. OK. Be cool. I look normal, right?"

I glanced at him, "Why are you standing like that?"

"Like what? Stop making me self-conscious...I don’t look weird though, right? Tell me I look normal."

"Are you serious?" Tsukiyama asked, hand on my shoulder, _squeezing_ , "I hardly think this is the time for flirting, Fuyuhiko."

"I'm not flirt—"

"Hi, Pasha," I said, smiling up at him.

I explained what'd happened, all whilst the responding officer undermined me. When I'd finished, Pasha and Himari spoke for a bit before returning.

"We need statements from all of you," Himari said, running a hand through her hair, "And we'll do a more thorough search of the...what is it?"

"A church."

"You live in a church?"

"No, she does," I gestured to Genesis, who was being consoled by a much nicer responding officer.

"Okay. We'll search it. Do you have somewhere to go for the night?"

"You can stay with me, _chérie_ ," Tsukiyama said, his jacket now around my shoulders, "Or do you need to search all of our homes?"

Himari looked around at the street, "It's possible. Which one are you?"

"The big one," I said, "But there are like, loads of servants in there, right?"

"Servants?"

" _Bien-sûr_. I doubt they'd have seen anything though, but you can certainly ask."

"Sure. What about him?" She turned to Dory, who was talking to Pasha.

"He lives in that cuboid one. It's pretty empty in there—he's a minimalist," I said.

"We could search that pretty quickly then," She turned to Pasha, who was now deep into conversation with Dory, "Sorokin, you done?"

"Huh? Oh, sorry. What?"

"Could you help me take statements, please?"

"Uh, sure, sorry. Who's having who?"

"Go and deal with the crying one and your boyfriend here.”

“Wait, wha—”

She turned to me and Tsukiyama, “You two with me."

Himari took our statements and told us what would happen next. It was all very vague, and my memories of it are even vaguer.

I remember Tsukiyama sending me to a spare bedroom with a rose-salted bath and pink satin pyjamas. I found myself feeling lonely that night, despite the number of people I could hear in the rest of the house.

I wondered what Tsukiyama and Genesis and Fuyuhiko were doing. Were they together? Were they all having fun without me? Did they feel lonely too?

I imagined the three of them were together. They were probably laughing or having fun. They probably didn’t even consider me.

I began pacing and exercising in my room. Aqua watched me with sparkling eyes, mewing and purring as she watched me.

I needed the toilet, but wasn't sure if I was allowed. What if I heard or saw something I wasn't supposed to? What if I broke something?

I went shaking to the nearest bathroom; jumping at any sounds.

"Charlotte," I heard, as I was going to my room. I froze, seeing Tsukiyama stood behind me.

"I was just using the bathroom. I didn't mean to do anything wrong."

He blinked, "What did you do?"

"I left my room. Was I allowed to do that?”

”Don’t be ridiculous. Why wouldn't you be?"

"I just didn't think I was allowed."

He laughed, "What a strange thing to think!"

"What are you still doing up?"

" _Wandering_. Sleep has eluded me. I was going to the library, do you want to come?"

I nodded, walking next to him, "Where's everyone else?"

"In other bedrooms, of course, though I doubt Genesis will stay put all night, and Fuyuhiko's still drooling over your Russian friend. How are you feeling?"

"Nervous. Any updates?"

"We'll find out in the morning, I'm sure. Here we are," He stopped at an oak door, put on the lights and went inside. I followed, in awe at the spirals and spirals of books. Tsukiyama lit a candle and turned to me, "Help yourself to whatever you want, I'm sure you'll be careful."

I nodded and went to explore—finding a collection of old animal anatomy books and began to read. I think we were there about an hour before Tsukiyama took me back to my room. I didn't feel as lonely or abandoned after that, and slept soundly.

I met up with Pasha, Himari and Genesis that morning.

"Can I go back home now?" Genesis had asked.

"We are not quite finished yet," Pasha said.

"Hurry up then. You were supposed to be house-sitting anyway, what happened?"

"I left on Sunday morning. I brought my own food and laptop, and I slept in Charlotte’s room on my own bedsheets, as you told me too."

"And did _you_ notice anything strange? Maybe we should be asking _you_ the questions."

Himari interjected, "This is going off-topic. We're trying to make sure it's safe for you to go back, but we still have to collect some evidence."

"Have you found anything?" I asked.

"We're not sure if it's anything important yet, but we should know soon."

I nodded. I told Genesis to go and tell Tsukiyama whilst I spoke further to Pasha and Himari.

"Did you see anything weird?" I asked Pasha.

He shrugged, "I mean, there were a few windows open sometimes, and I thought I heard footsteps or something moving; that was it...but I was not checking on your food or anything. I was definitely not watching movies or buying clothes."

"Did you have anyone over?"

"Lydia, a few times."

"What?"

"I know, but she rang me crying, telling me she wanted to hurt herself, that she didn’t understand why everyone hated her. But I know it wasn’t her. I didn’t let her out of my sight.”

"Did she stay over?"

"I took her home."

“Did you ask why her car was following us?”

“Yes, and she screamed at me.”

“Because she knows we’ve got her,” Himari said.

Pasha turned to her, “You both keep saying that, but what have you actually got on her? Like, hard evidence?”

“You don’t believe us,”

“No, I agree now—she’s suspicious, but have you got anything other than this picture?”

"I-I’m working on it,” Himari said, “I’ve got a lead but...it’s taking time. I’ve got _something_.”

“Then hurry up.”

"Where is Lydia anyway ?" I asked.

“Off work for the week.”

"Your complaint isn't being looked into?"

Himari stared at me, then gave Pasha a look, "You weren't supposed to know about that, but no, it's not."

"What's happening with Gunnarson?"

"We can't tell you that eit—"

Pasha interrupted, "Call the prison. The Chief says we can go to Sweden, but I have to pay. I know you’re busy, but it's cheaper if I—"

"When are you going?"

"Next week. I'll pay for everything and send you a date."

"Just the two of us?"

"Mhm."

"Fine. Then I'll leave you to it."

I saw Dory approaching, and watched as he latched onto Pasha, smiling and offering coffee. I didn't know how to feel about that—I wasn't sure if Pasha liked men at all, and I didn't want Dory to get hurt or make Pasha uncomfortable. I wondered if it was my place to say anything.

"Fisher," Himari said, glancing at Pasha and Dory.

"Hm?"

“Did Pasha tell you I reported Ryōma too?"

"Yes."

"I know it wasn't my place, but—"

"No, it wasn’t. It's my business."

"He can't keep doing this—"

"Stay out of it, please."

"I won’t sit back and—You know what, _fine_ , I was just trying to help, but here’s my advice anyway—take it or leave it—If Ryōma asks you to go to a hotel; don't go."

"What?"

"If he asks you to meet him at a hotel—just don't go."

"Okay...?”

She nodded and walked off, nudging past Pasha. I went back inside, preparing for fitness classes I had that day.

I got a text from Lyra that day, before yoga class;

_ur bac then_

_Yes._

_where u go?_

_I told you; away._

_u didnt text me since then_

_No, sorry._

_Were you in the church last night?_

Nothing. Then five minutes later: _u shouldnt have gone without me_

She didn't show up at any classes. Yet again, I was on thin ice. I tried to ignore the pit this knowledge created in my stomach, but it seemed to linger in the background of my thoughts. The only thing that helped was exercising, studying, or cutting, and I spent the rest of the day doing just that.

Lyra still hadn't contacted me again by morning, but I took my mind off it by swimming. When I was getting a drink, I was interrupted by Tsukiyama.

"Is there any sport you don't do?" He'd asked.

I'd laughed, getting back in the pool, "Team sports, and you scared me!”

"I'm sorry," He gently stepped into the pool and swam to me, "You're a strong swimmer."

"I'm quite a strong woman, _normally_. I mean, when I'm not this... _small—"_

"I didn't mean to upset you," He swam past, "Don't mind me. Continue your swim."

I watched him swim, jealous that he was definitely more graceful than me. It felt like a race between us, and I was desperate to win.

Tsukiyama didn't seem to notice though. He stopped swimming eventually and went to the shallower end with me drifting behind. He turned to me, watching me stroke around the pool like a little sea butterfly. He told me to meet him in the butterfly garden, as he had a job for me.

I did as told, eating fruit and recording the different species in the garden—there were two new species that day, and I noticed something rather odd. It was then that Tsukiyama met me.

"Is something wrong?"

"This. She shouldn't be here."

"Oh—"

" _Hymenopus coronatus_ —orchid mantids—They don't live in Japan at all. It must be a—"

"Pet. We have them in the tropical garden."

"Never mind then. Can I keep it?"

_"Bien-sûr."_

"Wait. What else is in this tropical garden? How many other insects do you have? Why don't I know about it?"

"I'm not sure what else we have—you shall have to tell me—I think we might have leaf insects. Anyway. I need your taxidermy skills."

"For a human?"

He laughed, "No, for a bird. I'll lead the way."

I followed him to one of the other courtyards—one with fountains and blueberry bushes. There was a small gathering of servants around a blanketed lump on the floor. They scattered at Tsukiyama's presence, and we were left alone.

“We only found him an hour ago. _C’est_ _dommage_ , it wasn’t that old," Tsukiyama folded his arms, pouting slightly.

I looked under the blanket. A peacock lay underneath, neck curled, eyes locked shut. It hadn't been attacked by anything and it looked healthy. I wondered what had killed it; some kind of disease? Suffocation?

"Could you taxidermy it?" Tsukiyama asked.

I hesitated, "Yes, but it'd take time. I'm not a bird expert but it's big, so I have room for error."

"You’ll do it?"

“Sure. I’ll need to go get my stuff from the apartment. Do you have a huge freezer?”

“Yes.”

“Put him in there. He’ll take a week at most, so I have to keep him fresh.”

“Certainly,” He took my arm, "Speaking of, I figured we'd go to the gardens first, then the taxidermy shop, then we can get changed and go to _La Sirène Mutilée_ , is that okay?"

" _Parfait_ ," I slipped my hand into his, "I did need something from the bookshop—"

"Well, I did plan a few shopping detours, but we can't be too long. I have to get my hair done this evening, we could get your hair done too."

"We’ll see."

I'd been looking forward to spending the day with Tsukiyama recently, especially after our spat. I felt obliged to repair our relations.

I remember enjoying the Imperial Gardens—especially the ninomaru gardens—so traditional and artistic. Something about the energy there gave me peace.

"I imagine this would be amazing for yoga," I'd said.

"I think you're right," He said, hand in mine, "I don’t think that's allowed, _chérie_. Do you want to do a tour?"

"Of the inner gardens? Sure."

I found the tour less exciting than the general gardens. I liked learning about the history, and some of the buildings were quite cool. But there weren’t as many insects.

"Didn't you enjoy it?"

"I did, it seems like the kind of place Dory would enjoy more, with all the architecture."

"I brought him here too on a date once. He enjoyed it."

"Date? I thought it was just like, a sex thing between you."

"We still spent pleasant time together, we still do. He came with me this New Year, actually. You shall have to come, you'd probably enjoy it more then."

"Is _this_ a date?"

He paused, "Perhaps it is. Come, I could do with a coffee."

I hesitated. Did I want it to be a date? I was attracted to Tsukiyama, and I was certainly enjoying how the new physical element to our relationship made me feel. But I wasn't sure if A) I wanted a romantic relationship, or B) I had those kinds of feelings towards Tsukiyama.

I shook the feelings off. It was probably nothing—I should stop thinking about it, God forbid I ruined some more time with Tsukiyama. He was only being nice to me, it didn't _have_ to be sexually driven.

I followed him around the shops, accepting any gifts I was offered, genuinely enjoying his company. I don't know when we got to the taxidermy shop—Tokyo's Darwin Room—I only know that it was getting later.

It was quite an odd place—a bookshop, a cafe and a taxidermy shop, it sounded like my idea of heaven, and it was. The fucking smell of that place was heaven.

I was quite jittery in my excitement, unable to sit still or stop talking. Tsukiyama seemed to find it quite amusing.

"Why are you laughing at me?"

"You’re excited, aren’t you? It’s rather cute. You’re like a little kitten with a feather teaser. Maybe I _should_ get you a collar.”

“I want it pink.”

“ _Terminé_. You know, I'd have brought you sooner if I knew you'd be like this. Now tell me, what'd you think of that zebra over there?"

"What about it?"

"How good is it? I don't know what good taxidermy is, do I?"

"Good taxidermy is something that looks natural. That looks alive. Which everything in here does, however..."

"However?"

"Consider where the zebra came from. I'm sure it's only from the zoo, but sometimes they're acquired via unethical means."

"Poaching?"

"I'm sure it's not though, most taxidermists don't taxidermy something like that. I mean, I don’t. I mainly do roadkill, things I find, pets or other naturally dead things."

“Like my peacock.”

“Like your peacock.”

“What’s the biggest animal you’ve ever worked on?”

“Sheep. When I was in Zimbabwe I worked on African Civets, they’re pretty big. The biggest birds I’ve done are owls and falcons mainly.”

“I see. Tell me more about what you did in Africa—I’ll bet you found plenty of strange dead things.”

"Plenty. Lots of flap-neck chameleons and other lizards. Aardwolves were pretty common too. The majority of my _Compsoctena collection. I was only seventeen when I went, so I'd only just started taxidermy."_

I spoke for quite a while about my Zimbabwe trip four years prior. I think he’d been trying to feed into my excitement, which I would've appreciated, only I find excitement slightly irritating, and it seemed like he was doing it for his pleasure more than mine.

It must've been especially irritating, for I can't remember much of my experience. Not that it matters, as I've been there hundreds of times since.

I do remember Tsukiyama being loose with his wallet, as always, especially when it came to me. By the end, I had a large pile of books and small dead things.

I remember specifically a large frog— _Rana japonica_ —in resin. I hadn't been able to stop looking at it, all I did was stare at it whilst Shuu had his hair done.

"Are you getting your hair done too, _chérie_?”

"Yeah..."

"Are you listening?"

"No...Hm?"

"I wouldn't have bought you that frog if I thought it'd distract you so much."

"Distract me from what? You?"

" _Oui_! I'm being neglected."

"Does my hair need doing?"

"Didn't you want to dye it?"

"Part of it, yeah, but I don't have money—"

"I'll pay. You need to make an impression when you go to the club. Excuse me?" He flagged down someone and had them take care of my hair, which hadn't been to the hairdressers in ten years.

It was nice to have my hair taken care of, and it looked amazing afterwards; my ponytail now neon pink, even able to glow in blacklight, and what was not dyed seemed silkier. It was super bouncy now. It was also very expensive.

"You should've let me pay," I said, snuggling into Tsukiyama's arm, resin-frog in my palm.

"Don't start with that."

"You're spoiling me today. Why?"

"Hm?"

"Why are you buying me all this stuff?"

He shrugged, "You're always getting me flowers."

"And you're always buying me things. What's up?"

"Nothing," He took the frog from me, holding it to the sun, "It _is_ rather unique."

"Did you see the other one? With all the phases?"

"I did, and the crab, and the other frogs, and the octopus, and the fossil necklace. Hurry along now, we'll be late."

"We were early ten minutes ago."

" _Allez_!" He gave me the frog back and pulled me along.

_La Sirène Mutilée_ was unlike any strip club I'd ever worked at before. It had multiple floors; one a five-star Greek restaurant, two VIP lounges, two for dancing, one for a changing and rehearsal room, and the top floor was an open-air bar and pool.

The decoration was also bizarre. There were large walls of seawater aquariums, full of clownfish, puffers, tangs and brilliant corals and anemones—I even saw some shark and stingray. The aquarium must've surrounded the rooms, for there were little windows where you could look into the aquarium. There were sculptures of erotic merpeople, of Aphrodite emerging from the sea-foam.

"What do you think?" Tsukiyama asked.

“It's weird."

"Oh—"

"I love it! It's like being on a drug trip."

" _Magnifique_. Come, let me introduce you and show you around."

I spent quite awhile talking to managers and dancers. The offered arrangement worked perfectly for me. I knew that I was guaranteed a position because of Tsukiyama, but I said I'd think about it; I knew I'd accept.

We were at an event there that night, so moved to one of the lounges to meet everyone. Whilst in the toilet I checked my phone; Pasha had sent me a date for Sweden, but I was more taken aback by Ryōma and Lyra. Lyra had sent over two hundred texts in the hours I'd been out, and Ryōma had sent one, slightly cryptic message.

It said; _need 2 end this call me_

__  
  


I shuddered, remembering Himari's warning. I turned to Lyra's, taking screenshots and forwarding them to Pasha.

The gist was: _where r u?_

_u ignoring me now?_

_whore_

_charlotte i need u_

_ur so fucking stupid_

_i love you_

_answer me slut_

_im talking to uuuuuuu_

_y r u with him?_

_im better than him_

_dont b stupid_

_ur going to die_

_dumb bitch_

_cant believe u going to a strip club with him_

_its like u wanna die_

_oh wait lol_

_u deserve it_

_maybe hell actually get the job done_

I shuddered, putting my phone down. Pasha texted me with: _wtf? what did u do?_

_I went out with Tsukiyama._

_fckn hell did u upset her?_

_Idk._

_i can get u protection for tonight?_

_I'm still staying w/Tsukiyama. It's pretty well protected. I might want it later._

_k i don’t mind coming around._

I let out a yelp, feeling a hand on my back. It was just Tsukiyama, “Will stop that?"

"Stop what?"

"Scaring me!”

"I don't mean to, _chérie_. You're just very jumpy, a lot like your frog."

I turned my phone off. Tsukiyama's hand was on my waist, seeming to slither around me. I shook him off slightly; I didn't like that. He didn't comment on it, putting his hand on my knee, I didn't really like that either, but who was I to object?

I listened to him talk, relaxing slightly to the sound of his voice, and waiting for him to remove his hand so I could use the bathroom.

I saw Dory come in with an older man. He smiled at me but followed the man into another room.

"Where's he going?"

"Somewhere more private."

"For sex?"

"Perhaps," He hesitated, "We could get a room, if you’d like."

I froze and stared at him. Was he offering me sex? Was he planning on paying me? Or was this just the manifestation of the new tension in our relationship?

If so, then was that really all it was? The touching and closeness of it; was it really just a lure for sex?

If so, how disappointing. I’d hoped Tsukiyama would be better than that. I’d thought he’d been different, though, every other woman and man I dated or made friends with only wanted to fuck me, in the end.

I felt sick, "For what? Sex?"

He gave me a look, hand back to my waist; curling me towards him, "I don't know yet," His chin was lifted above my head—I couldn't escape.

I didn't want to have sex with him like this—not now— but did I have any right to refuse? He'd bought me all of these lovely things, he was nice enough to me, we both liked each other and we both knew I'd be having sex with other people tonight.

I remembered a time when I was fourteen, and Erik had bought me loads of gifts and then tried to have sex with me. When I said I wasn't sure, he held me down on the bed and said I'd enjoy it, before fucking me until I bled. He let me crawl home because I couldn't walk.

Would Tsukiyama do that to me?

That idea made me feel sick, my stomach was starting to hurt and I felt dizzy, but why? He didn't make me feel that bad normally.

I wasn't moving, and Tsukiyama remained silent, waiting for me to accept, because what else would I do? What _could_ I do?

I realised I had a chance to escape, but was it rude to take it?

I began to mumble, as if I'd transformed to my teenage self—now nervous and awkward with any kind of physical contact.

"Uhm. Okay. I just, uh, need the, uhm, bathroom," I said, fully intent on leaving.

Tsukiyama released me, "Fine," He knew I was going to leave.

I stood, nodding slightly, "Uhm, yes. Thank you, sir," I mumbled, before walking away.

He called out to me, "You can start using my first name, Charlotte!"

I smiled awkwardly, before absolutely pelting out of that place. I thought I saw him looking at me from a window, but ignored it and kept walking away.

Guilt made itself obvious; sitting in my stomach like a weight, shuffling around every so often.

Had I led him on? Was he angry at me? He should be, for I should've understood what I was feeling. I wanted sex, just not from him, not right now.

I found myself going to see Pasha. He let me stay with him—' _It's your apartment_ ', he said.

I lay in my room, staring at the ram's head above the bed, at my bedside lamp—a UFO with a little green alien inside.

Pasha came in to check on me, sitting on the bed.

I pulled the resin-frog from my bag and held it to the light. He held it, gently. I knew he wanted to ask what had happened.

"Charlotte, pigeon, you were not..." He gulped, " _Assaulted_ again, were you?"

I stared at him for a while, "No. I just didn't know where else to go."

"Do you wanna talk about it?"

"No. Where's your girlfriend?"

He lay next to me, taking my hand, "It's not working out."

"Oh..."

I realised that he too wanted to fuck me.

I was getting sick of this. Was there any escape to this?

I was starting to despise how I made people feel. How I was forced to let anyone who wanted to touch and fuck me, touch and fuck me, then continue to touch, fuck, squeeze, seize, hurt, and ‘ _love_ ’ me, then shame me for fucking them so many times.

I liked sex. I liked being sexy. I liked how I could make people feel. How it made _me_ feel.

But this was getting excessive, this was hurting me, and not a single person seemed to notice. They just wanted more and more and _more_ from me. It felt like people were drowning me with their sexual needs.

Would it ever end? I wondered. If so, when would it end? Would enough ever be enough? Would I ever be free to have whatever sex _I_ wanted?

I got the feeling it could only end with one thing; there was one action I could take.

It could only end with my death.


	32. 32

** 32 **

There was only one way to do it.

Only one way that would succeed; one I hadn't tried before; one I'd enjoy; one that'd ensure no one would save me.

I'd decided that on Saturday night—after Genesis' birthday party—I'd go to Mitake, I'd jump in the Ome, and I’d swim until I fall asleep.

It felt like the perfect plan, but I had to prepare—

"Charlotte! That snapped! I heard a snap!" Dory cried, interrupting my thoughts.

"That's meant to happen," Pasha said, "Stay still."

"Why doesn't it smell? OhmyGod. Did you just—Urgh. It looks like a foreskin."

"It does not look like a foreskin!"

"It totally does."

"Hey! Stay still, I'm trying to do the stitches."

I looked over my shoulder. Pasha leant over by Dory, whose face was a mess.

He'd called me at two, as Pasha and I were having drunken conversations about Area 51 and reptilians, (to my surprise, Pasha hadn't wanted to have sex with me).

Dory had been sobbing profusely, saying that he'd been attacked and wanted to know where I was. Obviously, we went and picked him up straight away, and now we were home, I was skinning a dead tanuki I’d found and Pasha was tending to Dory's wounds.

"What happened?" Pasha had asked.

"I was just, uh, walking to my uh, car, and something hit the back of my head. The next thing I knew, these men—or women—were standing over me, kicking and hitting me. They said, ' _burn in hell faggot_ ', ' _puffs like you make me sick_ ', or something like that. It's a lil fuzzy."

Pasha and I had exchanged solemn glances, "That’s sick," I said, pulling the skin over the head.

"She says, as she skins a cute fluffy animal."

"It's _art_."

"Foreskin."

"You're next."

Pasha sighed, hand on Dory's cheek as he wiped and stitched; his hand was the size of Dory's head, "Keep still. Has this happened before?"

"Quite a few times. Normally I have pepper spray or a butterfly knife—I don't plan on killing anyone or anything—it's just for emergencies. Normally I don't go home alone either, but Tsukiyama wasn't leaving yet and he said you'd left. I just thought it'd be safe."

I placed the tanuki down and turning, "So this is my fault? Because I ruined your butterfly knife, and I left early. If I hadn't been so stupid, I—"

"You didn't ruin it. It's clean now, I just forgot to get it, and you weren't obliged to stay, I just _assumed_ you would."

"And that's my fault. I'm so, so sorry."

"It’s not your fault some assholes jumped me. Why'd you leave anyway?"

"Just...tired."

"Liar. What happened?"

"She won't tell me," Pasha said.

"Did someone upset you?"

"No, no, I'm fine. Tired, that's all."

"If you're so tired, you shouldn't be playing with scalpels and dead raccoons."

"I'm fine."

"Did Tsukiyama upset you again?"

"...No. It's fine, really. We're on you now anyway."

"This has happened loads of times before. The hospital stopped seeing me after the fourth one. I'll be fine, right Pasha?"

"Not if you keep moving," Pasha smiled, "Do you know who attacked you?"

"No. There were a few of them. There's nothing you can do about it..."

I returned to the tanuki and my prior thoughts; thoughts I didn't actually want to think about.

I'd decided on my end, but there was a part of me begging me not to do it, not to make that choice. I wanted to carry on—to continue to move, breathe, sleep, learn and talk about dumb shit at two in the morning with my friends.

But I also knew I couldn't carry on like this. I couldn't keep this up. At this point, my desire to live was unrealistic. I couldn't control what other people did to me, how I was treated.

It was death now; dying by choice, or die of sexual exhaustion, or maybe I'd get raped again and they'd strangle me or something.

I knew which I preferred.

"Pigeon?" Pasha called out. They were both staring at me, "What's wrong?"

"...What? Nothing."

"You're crying."

"Sorry. I just...I need to get my dryer. Excuse me," I went to the bathroom, looked in the mirror, taking the razors from my hiding place and looking into my eyes.

"Come on, keep it together," I whispered, wincing slightly at the pain, waiting for the endorphin release, "Don't be silly. Don't be so attention-seeking. Don't make them worry. Just be normal. It's easy. Stop crying. Stop crying. You're okay. Just get to Saturday."

"Charlotte? You okay?" Pasha knocked on the door.

I carried on cutting, "Yes. I'm fine."

"What are you doing in there?"

"Just finding the dryer..."

"It's in the cupboard. C'mon. What are you doing?"

"Nothing," I smiled, smiling and rolling my sleeves back down, before emerging from the bathroom. I smiled at him, "See? I'm fine."

"No. Why won't you tell me what happened?"

"It's nothing."

"Don't lie, please. What were you doing?"

"Nothing."

"Let me see."

"See wha—"

"You know what. Let me see."

I reluctantly held out my arms, he looked, sighing, "Don't lie about it. I can't take care of you if you lie about it."

"I don't need taking care of."

"Well, I want to take care of you. Come here," He looked down on me, and I worried that he'd hurt me, but he pulled me into a hug. I was surprised by how much it comforted me.

"I'll get some bandages," He said, pulling away and patting my head and leaving me to feel cold and alone once more.

Pasha didn't mention it to Dory, nor did Dory ask about the new bandages on my arms. They just let me finish in silence.

"It's cute," Pasha had said when the tanuki was done, stroking it.

"Its eyes are staring into my soul," Dory said.

"They're glass," I said. I was rather proud of that tanuki. I adjusted its tail and stroked its fur.

"What about the rest of it?"

"I'll dissect it or something."

"That’s kinda grim, but whatever. Wait. Can you taxidermy humans?"

"Asking all the right questions,” Pasha laughed.

"Can you?"

"You can try, but the central idea behind taxidermy is to make something look natural— _alive_ —but taxidermied humans don't look right."

"Why?"

"Texture, I imagine. I've never tried."

"You could be her volunteer!"

Dory laughed awkwardly, "No thanks, I'm good."

"When you're dead, obviously."

"No. I wanna be a tree when I die."

"You can do that?"

"Well, it's in my will, so yeah. What do you wanna do with your body?"

"I don't know yet. Charlotte, you ok?"

"Just thinking...I'd like to give my body to research, but after that I'd also like to be a tree.”

I made a mental note to leave instructions for my body—though I imagined something would eat me and as usual, I'd have no choice in the matter.

"See, Pasha? We could be tree-twins."

"I wanna be a fruit tree, so then people can eat parts of me, and loads of wasps can nest in me."

"...You had to make it weird, didn't you?"

"I think it's cute. Can I be a fruit tree too?"

"Yes! We will both be beautiful trees!"

"Oh, so you two get to be fruit trees but I have to be some vanilla birch?"

"You could be a fruit tree too."

“No, because then all the bugs and children will eat me.”

“That’s the idea.”

That conversation went on for a while. We had to figure out what tree Dory wanted to be, before Pasha and I decided on the kind of fruit trees we wanted—cherries and pears, we'd make an excellent crumble.

None of us slept that day, though we all had work.

I was a little reluctant to do anything. I knew Tsukiyama would be inescapable eventually; I dreaded his anger. I dreaded what he'd try to do to me.

I imagined he'd attack me, force himself upon me and continue to do so. Not that it would be for long; it was already Wednesday.

However, Tsukiyama didn't show up to any of my classes, and I didn't see him when Genesis and I moved back into the church.

I wondered if he was avoiding me too.

Though was I really avoiding him? Or was I waiting for him? I still waited to see him in his bedroom window every night, and I was shocked by how lonely it felt when he never showed.

Maybe, in actuality, I did want to see him; perhaps I was worried that I'd misread the situation and offended him. Then again, I might’ve just been missing the wildlife gardens, the physicality of our relationship, the long conversations about books, history or philosophy. Maybe I missed the material gifts, the compliments, the way he could make me feel.

It was a very confusing situation to be in. I didn't like it.

I just kinda drifted, waiting to see him next, though I wasn't sure if I wanted to see him. I thought I'd see him when I collected the peacock, but no. Though I knew he was there.

I took the peacock back to the apartment, preferring to work there. Pasha didn't mind, as long as it didn't smell.

Genesis was hovering around the apartment too. I think more from boredom. I was almost touched that she preferred to spend the day with me over Tsukiyama.

Though, I can't say she was fond of what I was doing. She was ten times as dramatic as Dory, and people are normally dramatic watching taxidermy. She especially didn't like me pulling the brains out.

When I was done for the day, I took her back home before my classes. When we were in the garden, I noticed something shiny on the floor.

It was a silver necklace—perhaps _Swarovski_ —of a swan with a pink gemstone. I'd seen it before; Lydia had one just like it. I'd thought it coincidence at first, that she happened to have a swan necklace, but now it seemed sinister.

Had it perhaps been a joke? Had she been laughing at us as it hung there—an obvious hint as to who she really was?

I put the necklace in a bag and gave it to Pasha. He said he'd have it checked for DNA.

Finding the necklace turned out to be convenient, as Lyra showed up to yoga class.

She didn't shout at me that day, just stared at me. As always, she was last in the class after the lesson. I got the feeling she was icing me, which somehow made me feel worse about myself.

"Do you have a swan necklace?" I'd asked her. I never instigated conversations with her, she looked shocked, blushing slightly.

"What did you just say?"

"A swan necklace, with a pink gemstone. Is that yours?"

She paused, "Where was it?"

"In Genesis' garden."

"What did you do with it?"

"The police found it. You know, there's a woman I worked with that had a necklace just like that too. Lydia. She kinda looks like you. Icelandic though, not Swedish."

She smiled, "Is that the depressed one? That sad, ugly, waste of life—Lydia Kirstofdottir—it won't be long before she kills herself. That's what Souma Himari said."

"When did you hear that?"

"I hear everything, Charlotte, you didn't think I didn't know about your little investigation, did you?"

"Of course you knew."

"I'm not mad though. I understand."

"You're not?"

"No. You have to keep up appearances, I know, people would freak if they found out about our _love_. We have to make sure no one finds out, not yet," She took my hands, looking into my eyes, "Oh, God, no. Is that why you're still hanging around those... _cretins_? Those that want to hurt you?"

“Uh, yes, also, uh... _money,_ and...clout?”

"Oh, so we can leave together! Oh, I'm so sorry I said all those awful things about you. I was so angry with you—I thought you were being so stupid—but you were just trying to protect _us_ , weren't you?"

I nodded. She snuggled into my chest and kissed me.

"Oh, baby. You're so cute, but you don't need to do that. I have plenty of money. You sweetie. God, I fucking love you. You're a brilliant actress, I really thought—Oh, we are so in sync. This is why I chose you."

"Uhuh."

There was a pause, as she looked into my eyes. I felt filthy, because I liked it.

Lyra didn't look at me with lust, she looked at me with large, wet eyes. Her pupils were always huge, and my reflection was always looking back at me.

I knew she only wanted to screw me too, but it was so nice to not feel like a sex object. I can only describe it as _humanising_.

I wondered why, of all people, I took comfort in Lyra. Why I preferred her over Pasha and Tsukiyama, when they were good to me, but required sex, and Lyra was so unstable. She most definitely was abusive, and yet I preferred her.

I smiled at her—genuinely—I touched her gently, and she blushed, kissing me again. We kissed for a long time. It was nice. It wasn't sexual at all.

_Finally!_ I thought, _Finally, I can kiss someone without the implication of sex. Finally, someone different! I mean, sure, she's a toxic stalker, but I—_

My thoughts froze, joy overcome with disappointment.

Her hand was in my underwear.

Of course it was. Of course, I couldn't kiss someone without it going to that.

I didn't object. I played along with her, though I didn't want to it at all. I just did what I always did, faking orgasms and waiting for it to end.

When she'd finished fucking me on the floor, she mumbled things to me; things I'd heard before, from every partner ever. I stroked her hair, waiting for her to leave.

It was obvious to me now that she hadn't cared at all, that I was an idiot for thinking anyone could actually ' _love_ ' me without immediately fucking me.

Then again I guess that's quite selfish. ' _Love_ ' involves more than one person, I had to consider others. That's always been my problem with relationships—considering someone else—I guess I was just as guilty as those that used me.

When she finally left, I cried. Not because I missed her. I cried because I felt so unloved, so useless.

I felt _lonely_. I've always been so, so lonely, even when I tried to make connections, I couldn't maintain them. I'm just too selfish, too attention-seeking, too clingy, annoying, too distracting, too much of a show-off.

I didn't want to die, I knew that, but what was the point of living? What's the point of living if people hate you or want to fuck you?

I desperately wanted to live. I wanted to live and be healthy and happy.

But I didn't have that right, and I couldn't keep on like _this_. I wanted _this_ to end. If dying meant the end of _this_ , then I'd take it.

How I felt didn't matter. 

But did it ever matter in the first place?


	33. 33

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note 1: This chapter gets quite graphic to the end. If that’s not your thing, feel free to skip! 😊

** 33 **

Thursday would be more confusing for me, but Friday would be worse.

On Wednesday night, I went to a party with Genesis and Dory at a casino. I somewhat hoped Tsukiyama would be there, but I also didn't want him to be there. Dory said his family owned the casino, so I assumed he'd be there.

We hadn't spoken at all, but then again, my phone was always off, so he might've texted me.

That night wasn't fun at all. I spent it doing sexual favours like a good little sex doll, when all I wanted to do was go home and cry some more.

Dory noticed my mood, he gave me edibles and tried to keep people away from me. But it was fruitless, for I was tossed from man to man; an empty shell of sexual pleasure.

I didn't cry again that night, though I wanted to. At the end, I just lay down and slept.

The next day I drifted through my work, too focused on what was going to happen on Saturday to think about anything else.

Even Genesis had tried cheering me up.

"What's wrong with you? You're so mopey. Do you want some of this?" She offered me coke—it was mid-morning and she'd only just woken up.

I looked at it—I'd die soon, what the hell?—I needed _something_ to get me to Saturday. Only two more days now; I'd already begun my note.

I accepted it and returned to my work. I wanted to be interested in my project, but all I could think about was how Wolbachia could render insects useless. They needed it to reproduce. To have _sex_. They were worthless without it; without _sex_.

It seemed to follow me wherever I went. Ordinarily, I wouldn't have complained, I'd have embraced it, but now it seemed tainted. I'd wonder if it would last—I liked being so sexually open—but then I remembered it didn't matter because I was going to die soon.

Genesis nudged into me, like a child. I placed an arm around her, pulling her into me. Her body was warm, and I didn't feel as lonely with her. She fell asleep on me, and for those few hours I felt warm and loved. I wished we could stay there forever.

When she awoke, we went swimming together, holding each other in the water, noses pressed against each other.

I wondered if Genesis too wanted to fuck me, but I doubted it. Dory was convinced she was a closeted lesbian, but I didn't quite buy it.

Still, I decided to ask her about our relationship.

"We're best friends, Charlotte, what else would it be?" She’d replied, giggling, "What, do you have a crush on me or something?"

I shook my head, even though I definitely did have a crush on her, "I was just wondering, it can be confusing. Besides, you aren't into girls."

"Nope."

"What about guys?"

"I don't really know, most of them want something from me I can't give."

"Sex?"

She furrowed her brow, "I don't like that word. But yes. Maybe I am into girls, are they the same?"

"...Everyone is."

"I’m not. I don't understand what’s so great about it. Especially you. Why do you have so much of it, Charlotte?”

I wondered if that was accusation, and didn’t show how it hurt me. I shrugged, "Most of the time I'm just horny."

She looked disgusted, "Well, I'm not interested in any of it. I don't like it," She shuddered, "I don't feel it like everyone else.”

"That's okay."

"I know that now. It used to confuse me, because all my friends did it and talked about it. I used to think that I was broken. I thought there was something wrong with me."

"Some people are like that, and it’s fine...But you're not a virgin, are you? Dory and Tsukiyama told me—"

"That wasn't my choice. I didn’t want to do it."

"Oh," I paused, before touching her arm, "It wasn't for me either," She stared at me, "I mean, I didn't get to choose either. It just... _happened_. I didn't have a choice."

She took my hand, closing her eyes as if to end the conversation. We remained silent, holding hands.

I'd never have thought Genesis and I had that in common. But then again, we were both attractive, both small, both women, was it really a surprise?

Genesis soon got exhausted and left me to swim. I wondered if Genesis could save me. If our platonic friendship could save me. I doubted it, and Genesis didn't need more of my burdens. I couldn't trouble her.

I went to see Tsukiyama afterwards—by obligation, as I'd finished the peacock, so I had to go.

It didn't quite go as I expected.

"Charlotte?" I'd heard, the second I came in. I froze, my hands shaking slightly as Tsukiyama approached. He smiled at me and I cursed the warm feeling that boiled up inside, "You've finished it already?"

"...Yes."

"How wonderful. Oh, let me see. Oh, Charlotte, it's simply magnificent! _J'adorerais_!"

"It didn't take as long as I thought."

"He looks so alive again. _C'est parfait_! It's wonderful! _Merci, merci_!"

"It's okay."

"You need paying, don't you? How much?"

"Oh...It's fine."

"Don't be ridiculous. This is art, _ma chérie_. Here."

"...Thanks. I should—"

"Could someone display this, please? _Merci_ ," He turned back to me, "Are you busy today?" He asked, taking my arm, "I thought we could do something together again. It was fun the other day, wasn't it?"

"Yes."

"Now, what to do, what to do—"

"I'm actually busy today, with... _stuff_."

"What are you doing?"

"Studying. Work-stuff. I have classes."

“I know. I’m going to one of them—I do love your cold yoga, you know?”

”Yeah. Sorry, I forgot.”

”Oh! We could go shopping afterwards!”

I realised that it was pointless to resist. I didn’t have a choice. I had to go shopping with him.

”Shopping for what?” I asked.

”Clothes, obviously! You need some dancing outfits—new ones, we can’t have you using your old ones now, can we? Oh, right, you wanted the position, didn't you?"

I didn't think it mattered; I had under two days left, what was the point of getting a job?

Maybe I thought it'd give me something to hold onto. Something to live for.

I know it seems contradictory—if I was sick of being objectified, why would I put myself on a stage?

Pole dancing isn't always sexual, it's art. It turns sex into something glamorous and exploratory.

And I didn't dislike being sexualised—I loved it—I just didn't like being used and forced into things.

"If that's okay, I'd love it, thank you," I smiled weakly.

"Why wouldn't it be okay? I offered," He laughed, slightly.

"I don't know. Just—"

"You're such an odd little creature," He placed a hand on my head, "I'll sort it for you. I'll see you later, _oui_?”

"Sure," My voice cracked—of all the times to get upset—I smiled weakly, my eye twitching slightly, "That's perfect, thank you."

"Are you sure? You look a little—"

"Everything is fine. I'm fine, thank you. But I'm busy."

"Of course, but you look a little upset, _chérie_. Has something happened? Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, really. I'll see you later," I left before he questioned me anymore.

I dreaded spin and yoga class that day. I dreaded being alone with Lyra again.

Before class, I stuck a toothbrush down my throat and tried to throw up. I'd never been good at it, so failed. I hadn't eaten in days, so there wasn't anything to throw up.

Somehow I was able to power through spin class, feeling sicker and weaker by the end. I was glad we were doing cold yoga that day, I think hot yoga would've actually killed me.

I was starting to wonder if making it to Saturday was being hopeful.

"Charlotte, you look even more unwell," Tsukiyama had said, "Has something happened? Are you alright?" He'd asked.

"I'm fine, just dizzy."

"Perhaps you have a fever. Let me check,” He placed a warm hand to my head, “Hm. You feel fine,” He poked my nose, “Are you anxious about something?”

”No.”

”Don’t lie. Why aren’t you telling me? You look a little thinner, actually. Have you ate today? Yesterday?"

"...I forgot."

"Now that's no good, is it? Come. Let's get some coffee and something to eat."

I found myself slightly cheered up when shopping. I was able to forget how awful I felt, invested in whatever Tsukiyama was talking about.

I became more nervous when we went back to his estate. I was getting changed, staring at the new cuts and bruises on my skin. I thought about what tattoos I'd get if I covered the cuts. I couldn't work it out, I guess because I didn't think I had a future.

I looked at my breasts. They were gone forever now. It was a wonder how so many men and women still wanted to fuck me. Maybe because I was small and easier to control and move like a doll.

As I scrutinized myself, I noticed something new; the ribs by above my chest were visible. They'd never been visible before. Surely a few days of not eating hadn't caused _that_?

Seeing new bones used to make me feel better about myself, but was uncomfortable. This was a sign of failure.

"Charlotte," Tsukiyama came in, "Oh, _pardon_. Oh, no, what's wrong, _ma chérie_?"

I sniffed, embarrassed to be seen like this. I wondered what he was thinking.

Did he hate looking at my body too? Did he want to fuck me now? Was he laughing at me?

"I'm ruined," I choked, hands on my ribs, "I'm all fucked up, Tsukiyama!"

"Oh, Charlotte," He gasped and approached, wrapping my body in a silk robe and embracing me, "Don't you say that. And I told you; you can use my first name."

I accepted the embrace, but wasn't sure if he had sexual intentions. It was warm and comfortable; I liked it. I wondered if I'd mind if it was sexually driven. His advances had set me off before, but I hadn't a clue how I really felt about him.

Tsukiyama looked into my face, stroking tears from my cheek, his lips dangerously close to mine, "You mustn't say things like that. Listen to me, Charlotte— _mon précieux petit chaton_ —you listen here now," He smiled gently and I felt warmer, "You're very beautiful— _parfait_ —and you know that as well as I do. You're not ruined; not in the slightest. You could never be ruined."

"But look at me! I'm even worse. I didn't mean to. I wasn't trying to. I just forgot to eat. I know that sounds stupid, but that's because I'm stupid."

"You're not stupid."

"What kind of idiot forgets to eat?" I sniffed, "And now I'm crying, as usual. I'm so pathetic and stupid."

"Stop that right now. You'll be fine. You've just slipped up. You just have to get back on track and you'll be fine."

"What's the point? I'm gonna die anyway—"

"Don't you give me that. Think of that precious fish of yours. You can't give up, not yet, not over a little slip up like this. Hm? Can you?"

"No, but look at me. I'm basically already dead."

"You're not. Come, let's get you dressed and away from these mirrors. Would you like something to eat?"

"I don't know if I'm hungry...And I don't trust your cooking."

He laughed, " _Pourquoi pas_? I'm told I'm very culinarily skilled."

"You hardly make anything vegan."

"I don't understand it. You shall have to teach me."

"I shall."

"Come on then. You teach me how to make something you like. How does that sound?"

"...Okay, I guess," I shrugged, letting him guide me away.

I wasn't able to get rid of the self-disappointment I felt, but it helped a bit. It got worse at the club, when we were discussing the job.

I felt so weak; they wouldn't want someone so weak on the pole. You had to be strong for pole, but I didn't feel strong at all.

"This was a mistake,” I told Tsukiyama, when it was over.

"Hm?" He had an arm around me. It didn’t help my confusion at all, though it was quite nice.

"Look at me. Why would you want me on a stage? I'd be a good Halloween decoration and that's it."

"Don’t say that. You'll be fine, I told you."

"I don't know. Maybe I shouldn't take it."

"Don't tell me you've changed your mind."

"I'm just so hideous right now. I hate it."

"You know that's true. Come, let's talk somewhere more private—give you some space."

"Like a room?" I shuddered, thinking of what'd happened the last time, of what he'd do to me now.

He nodded, "Yes, to talk in. Come."

I didn't have a choice ( _surprise, surprise_ ), and I let him lead me into a private room. He sat me down and locked the door, sitting next to me.

"There's no need to look so scared, _chérie_ ," He smiled.

"I'm not."

"You look petrified. You're being terribly insecure today and I'm worrying. Why won't you tell me what's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong. Stop asking me that."

He raised an eyebrow, "Fine. Now, do you want the job or not?"

"I want it, I just don't think I should have it."

" _Pourquoi_? You're very talented—I’ve seen you. You make it look so easy and beautiful. It’s just gorgeous to watch."

"That’s what pole dancers do. There’s a million others that are better, and most of them don’t look this pathetic."

"You don’t look pathetic at all. You'll be fine in a few weeks, you know that. You need to rehearse for a few weeks anyway. Take that time and get your confidence back. It’s not like anyone will mind. You'll be fine, I know it, more than fine even...” He seemed to be searching for a word, but gave up, “I don’t know, but you’ll be brilliant. I know that for certain.”

I smiled weakly, "Thanks. That helped...a bit. I guess."

He placed an arm on my shoulder, smiling, "I'm glad."

 _This is where it starts_ , I thought. His touch was so inviting. I wanted him to touch me and be close to me, but I didn't want to be used again. I didn't want to be an object again.

I smiled back at him, though I was confused as to where this was headed. Where I wanted it to go—not that my opinion mattered.

"It's rather peaceful in here," Tsukiyama said, looking at the fish tank on the opposite wall, "I've always liked it. Father says that mother always liked it here."

"Really?" I asked, my hand finding its way around his waist. I didn't know what I was doing. I was moving on instinct, not through my mind, "You don't talk about her a lot."

"I don't know much of her. She died not long after childbirth."

"Like Jane Seymour."

"Quite. Though, if my knowledge is correct, she was rather plain."

He was almost sitting on my lap now, my arm still on his waist. When had he moved? Had I moved? What was going on? Did I like it?

"It's said so, but she followed Catherine of Aragon and Anne Boleyn, both of whom were quite beautiful. It must've been hard to compete...But your mother could never be plain, I'm sure," I continued, staring up at him.

"Exactly. She was a beautiful woman; Father says I look like her."

"You could only ever have beautiful parents."

"Oh, merci beaucoup, you flatter me. Your parents must be quite beautiful too," He shifted off of me, "Sorry, I must be squishing you."

"It's okay," We were next to each other again. I continued, "My father is one of the most grotesque men I've ever known, and I forget what my mother looks like without makeup. But my brother and I are both good-looking."

"I forget you have a brother. What's he like?"

"I don't really know. He's in med school. He's gay and not a virgin, but my parents don't know that...That's about it."

"Why aren't you close?" He was pulling me towards him now. My head was on his shoulder.

"I don't know. We were different kids. He spent his childhood in Lego houses whilst I made friends with frogs and kept insects as pets."

He tutted, blinking softly—like a tired little bird, "I used to want siblings," He said, lowering his voice, "I used to feel so alone."

"Really? With all those servants?"

"They were only paid to be nice to me. There were exceptions, but still, it was quite lonely."

"And you don't like having friends."

"It's not that I dislike it—"

"Sorry, _human_ friends. Sometimes I forget we're all just pets to you."

He hesitated. I wondered if I'd offended him. Maybe I wanted to offend him. Maybe I thought hurting him would make him dislike me, and our relationship would be more certain then.

He touched my cheek, looking deep into my eyes, "That doesn't mean I don't like you."

"Really?" I pouted, "Because you can be confusing," I giggled, even though I didn't have a clue what I was doing. What I was thinking.

I was letting my body do the work; my instincts took over. I guess I thought that if my mind was so confused, maybe my body would know what to do.

Looking back, I knew what my body would do. She wanted sex—it was always sex. She wanted love and touch too, but it boiled down to sex. Constant sex, even when I said no.

I wasn't even in control of my own body's desires.

Tsukiyama looked up at me, for I'd now mounted him, my hands on his shoulders, "Confusing, really?"

There was lust in his eyes, which made my stomach churn. I told myself fo calm down, stop worrying. This was in my control, right? I could stop if I wanted to, couldn't I?

It was under control. I was in control. I was. I could stop this.

I couldn't shake the sick feeling, but I carried on telling myself I was in control.

I smiled down at him, leaning close to his face, " _Very_ ," I whispered.

And then I kissed him.

It was better than I'd expected. He didn't taste like I'd expected—which had sickened me quite a bit—he tasted slightly fragrant, almost tangy; a bit like aged strawberries.

It was also gentle. The kisses that followed were all gentle too. They got rougher as we progressed, however.

He lay back, and I found myself on top of him, his arms tightly wrapped against my back. I considered what to do, what he wanted me to do, taking a breath to read his face—flustered and lusty.

I continued kissing him, my hands creeping to his crotch. He pulled away, panting slightly, "I'm not—It's not quite there just yet."

I giggled, "I can handle it," I slipped my hand into his underwear.

I wondered if it was different for ghouls. Did I need to apply more pressure? Dig my nails in? It was quite fun to experiment with him.

It certainly didn't look any different. It wasn't remarkable, but penises hardly are. They used to remind me of aliens—a creature attached to the male form, a parasite of sorts.

I rubbed his shaft, gently massaging it as I kissed his neck. Taking pleasure in his little moans and cries of pleasure—it was rather cute.

I was now in my underwear, my dress having easily slipped off earlier. Tsukiyama removed my bra and rubbed my breasts, licking my nipples and pulling on my piercings with his teeth. I whined in pain, wishing he'd make me bleed.

He licked my neck, moaning as his penis hardened at my touch. I giggled, "Do you want me to suck it?"

He glanced up at me, "Please."

I got to work, kissing and licking it. He continued to moan and say my name, telling me how amazing and beautiful I was—the usual stuff—as he pressed into my Venus dimples.

"That doesn't work," I mumbled, before kissing his tip and running my tongue along the side of it.

He came in my mouth. I swallowed, wanting to know if it tasted different—it was sweeter than normal, but thicker, and still fucking disgusting. I removed my mouth and continued licking, kissing the inside of his thigh.

To my surprise, he pulled me up into another kiss. I was kinda put off—considering where my mouth had been—but what did I care?

That kiss was rougher too. He chewed my lip enough to bleed, before apologising and licking the blood from my lips.

"You taste awful," He'd said.

"So do you," I replied, finishing him off. He let out another few moans and little gasps as he finished, digging his nails into my skin. I felt excitement at the tensing of his body, pushing down with my thighs as he bit and scratched me again and again.

And then it was over.

He finished, so it was over. Because it always ends when the man finishes; never mind me.

Tsukiyama relaxed and fell into me. I sat back, letting him do so, listening to his cute little pants. I stroked his soft hair and rubbed his skin as if I was comforting him—even though I was the one that looked like they'd been in a fight.

He'd bitten me everywhere, and the scratches were deep and sore. Nothing I wasn't used to. Nothing I couldn't handle.

Listening to his little pants, I began thinking. My body was exhausted, so my mind could work.

What had just happened? What had that just been? What did it mean?

Our relationship was still a mystery to me. It still hurt me.

Would he care about me now that we'd had sex? Or was I finished? Was I no longer fun? Would he continue to fuck me until he was bored? Would this change anything?

Normally I knew exactly what my romantic purpose was, but here, here I didn't know my place.

What was going on inside of me? What was I feeling? What did I want? Did what I want matter?

All my questions came in a flurry, and not one of them had an answer.

Tsukiyama nudged me, head leaning into my neck, his hand on my thigh, "Is something wrong?" He whispered, "You've frozen up, _chérie_."

I stared at him, thinking more and more unanswered questions. I gently put his hand back, shifting away.

"I'm fine. I think. I'd just like some air..."

"Are you alright?" He paused, "You aren't—I hope that didn't bring up any bad memories for you."

I paused. I hadn't even thought about that. It was the first time I'd had sex where I hadn't thought about that.

That only made things more confusing.

I touched his cheek, tilting my head to one side, "No...I just need some air."

As I dressed, he said, "You're not going to run off again, are you?"

I looked at him; that had been my plan, "No. I won't. I need air, that's all."

"Do you want me to come?"

"You already did."

"I didn’t mean _that._ Do you want me to go outside with you?"

"No. I just need to think."

"About what?"

"Nothing. My head's just... _busy_. I need to calm down."

"Do you want a drink?"

"...OK—nothing alcoholic."

I found I could easily unlock the door myself—I hadn't been locked in at all.

Being outside didn't help, though the air was cool and refreshing. I felt dizzy when I got outside, and I wanted to be sick. I was tired too, and I knew being tired out here at night was dangerous.

I knew Tsukiyama was watching me from the window, and a part of me didn't want to leave again. But what else were we going to do tonight?

Would he want answers? Was he asking the same questions as me? Was he just as confused?

I wasn't sure what I'd do if he was as confused as me. I think that made things worse.

I jumped at the sound of my phone ringing—it seemed to burrow into my skull like a carnivorous worm. I expected it to be Tsukiyama checking on me, but it was Lyra. She sent me a text then too;

_STUPID FUCKING WHORE_

Charming.

I felt even sicker and went back inside. At least Lyra could give me an excuse to leave.

I don't know how she saw it. How she knew.

It seems, on that night, that I knew nothing. Everything felt blurry and unorganised.

My suicide was appealing now because it was simple; I wouldn't have to think about all this. I wondered if I should do it a day early, and miss Genesis' birthday.

It was something to consider, I thought. Then again, a part of me was hopeful that Tsukiyama could help, and I wouldn't have to die so soon. Maybe the sex was a good thing.

But the other part of me doubted that, and another part of me told me to stop thinking about it, to just get to Saturday and die.

Simple. Easy. Just get to Saturday. That's all I had to do.

But you see, the problem was; I hadn't even considered how terrible Friday would be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note 2: Apologies for the late chapter; I had a bad mental health week. These next few chapters are pretty draining and I'm working on another project, so I hope you can all understand!
> 
> ✨ 💕 💕 ✨


	34. 34

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains content that some readers may find distressing. 
> 
> Please skip this chapter if you think it may distress you in any way.

** 34 **

"This is a terrible idea."

"I know."

"Seriously, Charlotte, this is...I know you're not stupid."

"I have to get him off my back. I just have to do this and he's out of my life forever."

Dory sighed, head in hands. I was in his car. The morning had been _OK_ so far.

I hadn't slept at all the night before; Shuu had invited me to stay with him that night—I'd refused. I liked what we did, but I didn't know if I like _liked_ him.

I didn't want to confuse things. I didn't want things to solidify. I didn't want something to care about.

That being said, he was all I saw when I closed my eyes—it gave me a headache. I didn't want to see him in my head; I wanted to sleep.

He came to my classes that morning—I wondered what he wanted from me. What he'd say and do. I prayed he didn't want answers, because I had none.

He invited me to coffee. I didn't know if I wanted to go, so I refused. I spent the next half hour wishing I'd gone with him.

When Tsukiyama left, (and I was regretting my decision to stay behind), Ryōma began texting me again. I sat on the floor, staring at my phone with dry eyes.

_meet me in Kabukicho_

_Why?_

_2 end this_

_thats what u wanted_

_When and where?_

_in 10_

_wait by hotel by hospital ill cum get u_

_I'm busy today._

_i dont care_

_Where are we going?_

_u better look hot lol_

_Where are we going?_

_Answer me._

_if u dont show up ill tell_

_and ill send ur photos to ur school_

_Photos?_

_from patreon_

_of ur lil pussy_

He sent a cat emoji, then sent me the photographs. I gulped, feeling dizzy. I hesitated—I wanted the Ryōma situation to be over, even if it wouldn't matter in thirty-seven hours, I could manage one last time, couldn't I?

_I'll be there._

I looked at the photos again, staring at my breasts—remember when I had those?—I thought about the Charlotte that'd taken those photos. She hadn't been well, but she was better than the current Charlotte. And her pussy was ( _is_ ) amazing, and she hadn't even known it.

It was kinda cute, even with a little piercing. Why didn't anyone tell me it was so cute? Why hadn't I realised sooner?

I started getting ready, now ready for my second to last day alive to be spoiled. As I was leaving, Dory's car was pulling out. He noticed me waiting for a bus and drove by.

"Hey," He stopped his car and leaned out the window, "I didn't see you yesterday."

"Sorry, I was... _busy_. Very busy."

"II was busy too. Cute outfit, by the way."

I was wearing a baby blue turtleneck with a grey skirt and heels; my hair was swept back by a blue headband.

"You waiting for the bus?" Dory asked.

"I have to meet someone in Kabukicho."

He opened the passenger door, "I'm going to Fuji for a meeting. I'll drop you off."

"Oh, it's fine—" I started, stopping when I saw Genesis and Tsukiyama approaching, "Actually, that'd be gre—"

"Charlotte," Genesis called, "We're going to Ginza. Ew, Dory, since when do you wear sunglasses?"

"I got attacked, so since then."

"Let me see. Ha!"

"It's not funny," I said, looking to the floor.

"It is quite funny. You should be more careful, Dory."

"Who attacked you?" Tsukiyama asked, shifting Genesis aside. I kept my gaze away from him.

"Some stupid homophobes. I'd rather forget about it. Charlotte, get in, I'm gonna be late."

"What? Where are you going?" Genesis nudged me, "I thought you were coming shopping with me."

 _Shit_. I'd promised to take Genesis shopping on Friday and Saturday.

"I forgot," I'm busy today—it's not negotiable. I'll go tomorrow though—"

"Just forget it, it's _only_ my birthday."

"Uh, that's tomorrow?"

"Wow, Charlotte, _wow_."

"What? I don't unders—"

"Like I said, forget it. Tsukiyama's coming anyway," She walked off, mumbling something about her birthday.

"Yikes," Dory said, "What the fuck was that?"

"Goodness knows," I could feel Tsukiyama looking at me, "Don't get upset about it, Charlotte, I'm sure she'll forget about it by tomorrow."

I didn't say anything, just waited for him to go. He kept staring at me as he spoke to Dory. I was starting to feel sick again.

"I'll see you both later, _oui_?" Tsukiyama asked, finally leaving. He nodded and walked past, brushing up against me.

Dory stared up at me, "Could someone please tell me what the fuck is going on?"

"Nothing."

He stared at me, then sighed, "Okay then. Get in."

It was silent to begin with, before he asked what I was doing, who I was meeting. I eventually caved, and to no one's surprise, he told me it was a stupid idea.

So, we come to the beginning.

"You're actually insane," He was saying. We were in Kabukicho now, "Charlotte, why?"

"I have to end this. After today, I'll be done with Ryōma and all his shit."

"Can't you just give him money or something? I'll give you the money to pay him off."

"He doesn't want money. He wants me. He wants something hot to fuck for free. At least, I was hot, now I'm just... _skeletal_."

"You're still hot. I think. I don't know what heteros like, but I think you're very cute, beautiful; whatever—from a totally platonic perspective."

"Thanks. You're kinda cute too."

"I know. Anyway, can't Pasha sort this?"

"That didn't go so well. I know you're worried—I am too—but it's just this last time. Just one more, and I'll never have to deal with this wanker again."

He rested his head on the steering wheel, "I'll cancel my meeting and wait out here for you."

I shook my head, "You don't have to do that. It'll be fine. Well, not fine, but _bearable_."

"This is rape. You're going to get raped."

"I'm consenting. I appreciate the concern—"

"I'm literally tempted to kidnap you right now."

"What?"

"You don't fancy a trip to Fuji, do you? I could leave you at the mountain to look at frogs and shit whilst I go to my meeting."

"I'd like to do that another day, but I'm not going with you. I just want to get this over with."

"If you don't call me in an hour I’ll call the police."

"It might take longer than an hour."

"I don't care if you're in the middle of it. Call me."

"Okay," I paused, seeing Ryōma loitering by a cafe, "That's him."

Dory gasped, "Dude, he looks slimy as fuck."

"He is."

"No, there's no way I'm letting you go."

"Too late. See you later," I began approaching Ryōma, digging my nails into my palms, fighting the urge to start biting my skin.

Ryōma noticed me immediately, gestured slightly, before walking off; he wanted me to follow him.

I started following, ignoring the sound of Dory slamming the car horn at me.

"Young lady, I swear, if you don't get back in the car I will...Well, I don't know yet, but I will do _something_!" He said, poking his head out the window.

I ignored him, following Ryōma to the other side of Kabukicho. It didn't clock how weird that was—I was tired and starving—my cognitive function was impaired.

He stopped in another hotel. It was owned by the Tsukiyamas. Go figure.

This offered me some security. I don't know why. It's not like it would help me.

Ryōma was waiting on the top floor. I took the stairs—lifts make me anxious and I wanted to delay it.

I knocked on the door, staring at the door number— _252_ –with tired eyes. Eventually, I nudged it and gently pushed it open. I called out, my voice breaking. I left the door open.

"You took your time," I heard him say.

"Sorry," I looked up into the bedroom. I froze.

Police Chief Bessho was sat in one of the chairs, smiling softly at me. The room seemed to rock when I noticed him, his smile burning into my skull.

"Charlotte, it's been a while," He said.

I looked to Ryōma, "Why is he here?"

"Why are you here?" Bessho asked, looking at me, "Don't you look pretty? Lovely skirt."

"I didn't agree to this," I shook my head. I stepped back. I turned, but another man was blocking the door; which was still open.

He was young—no older than eighteen—and nervous looking. He was tall, with a gentle face. I would've trusted him if we were in a more casual setting; and if he wasn't a man.

I stepped back again, "What? Wh-What the fuck is this?"

Someone placed a hand on my back. I yelped and lurched forward, stumbling into the tall boy again.

It's funny. I still thought I could escape. I'd never escaped before, why did I think this was any different?

"No," I shouted, "No. I am leaving. I am not doing this, I will not do this."

"You promised," Ryōma sneered, he touched my face, but I moved away, "And you know what happens if you refuse."

Bessho let out a sigh, "Now, Charlotte, we can do this the easy way or the hard way. Either way, you're not going anywhere, sweetie."

I shook my head, "No! You cannot do this. You cannot," I shoved past the boy and ran to the door. I tugged the handle, but it was locked. I pulled again, banging, "Help! Plea—"

I screamed, feeling someone pulling my away—Ryōma—I hit his head with my bag, before making a dash for the balcony. Maybe I could get outside and call for help; I'd climb down if I had to.

But no one had helped me before, why would they do so now?

As I neared the door, someone hit my head and I fell to the floor. I hauled myself up, but was pushed over.

Bessho pulled me up, hauling me over his shoulder. I screamed and hit his back, digging my nails into his skin.

"Kazuo," He barked at the boy, "Shut those curtains."

The boy didn't move, watching me struggle and scream, "You said she'd be fine with it," He mumbled.

"Kazuo, for fuck's sake, do as you're told for once."

"But dad—"

I bit down hard on Bessho's shoulder. He grunted, before laughing, "You didn't tell me how kinky she was, Hajime!"

I saw Ryōma smile, still biting down hard, "Yeah, she's a good girl when she calms down a bit. She goes all still—like a scared little bunny."

Bessho threw me onto the bed. I reached out—like an insect on its back—clawing at him, crying out for help.

He placed his hands on my neck, squeezing, "Kazuo, the fucking curtains!"

I couldn't breathe. I clawed at his eyes, desperately trying to breathe. He released and pushed on my ribs instead, panting slightly.

I wheezed, feeling my ribs bending under his weight—about to snap. My vision was blurred by tears, but I still tried.

I didn't give up just yet; despite my exhaustion. I don't know why, why didn't I give up? I knew what was going to happen.

He released before my ribs snapped, letting me cough and splutter. There was a pause as we both recovered, Ryōma preparing to take over.

Bessho's gaze met mine, he was about to speak, but I quickly lifted my heeled shoe to his groin. He folded, holding his crotch, "Bitch! Fucking bitch!"

I stood, going back to the balcony. Again, I was struck down. Ryōma pressed me back onto the bed, he looked at me, smiling slightly, "You're not normally this difficult, Charlotte."

"Do not call me that!"

"Aww, your Japanese is starting to go funny. You're so stupid—"

I spat at him and he hit me, mounting me to keep me down. He was at least sixty pounds heavier than me, I didn't have a chance.

I was exhausted. I couldn't fight anymore. I went still—like a bunny—and waited for it to begin. The sooner it began, the sooner it ended.

Ryōma kept his weight on me as I stilled. He stroked my hair, "There's a good girl. That's it," He looked to the boy, "Put the radio on, in case she screams again."

The boy did as told. Ryōma looked back to Bessho, who was getting up, "Fucking bitch," He grunted.

"You alright?"

"I'll be fine. Why don't you have a go first—loosen that little pussy up a bit, eh?"

Ryōma smiled, turning to the boy, "Kazuo, come see this."

The boy was staring at him with wide eyes, "No. I don't-I don't want to do this!"

"Jesus, Yuuma, you didn't tell me he'd grown into such a pussy."

"Dad, please, I just wanna go home. I don't want to do this today."

Bessho glared at the boy, "Don't be such a pussy. I didn't raise a pussy, did I?"

"I don't want to do this."

"Are you a fag, son?"

"No, sir."

"Then you can do it. We can't have you being a virgin forever now, can we? Eh? Answer me, Kazuo!"

"But she's screaming. She doesn't like it."

"She's a schizo or something—not violent though, but she's stupid enough—she does this a lot," Ryōma smiled, unbuckling his belt.

"Mhm," Bessho stared at me hungrily, "But she's very experienced. Perfect for your first time."

"But she's hurt. You hit her."

"Sometimes you have to knock a little sense into them."

"Yeah, just ask your mom."

Bessho laughed, "She's fine now—just watch—she'll be drooling soon. See, all those dramatics were just that, son, _dramatics_. Look at her, at her outfit, her hair, that pretty face—doesn't she look like she wants it?"

"No."

"You'll understand in a few years. Women like this; they'll do _anything_ for sex. They want it. I mean, if she didn't want it, would she dress like that? Would she spend every night selling her ass if she didn't want it?"

"She's not selling herself now."

"She still wants it. She always wants it. Watch Hajime now, he's getting impatient. You're being rude, Kazuo. Do you think your mother would like that?"

The boy looked down as Ryōma prepared.

I wasn't getting out of this. There was no escaping. There was nothing I could do. I had no choice. There was no point fighting. No point in crying. No point in doing anything.

There was one thing I could do and I did it. I lay there and waited for it to end.

I was glad of the radio; there was music engulfing the room. I tried to focus on the lyrics; the rhythm and the beat.

Ryōma pushed down again, looking up my skirt, "You're outfits are so easy—I really appreciate it."

He pushed my skirt up and pulled my underwear down. My legs instinctively tried to clamp, but Ryōma forced them open.

It hurt. It hurt so fucking much.

I let myself silently cry as Ryōma grunted and pressed into me. The radio's noise soon became distorted; a song by Genesis Slawter was on, and she was all I could see.

I thought about her large, wet eyes and black curls. Her smooth, olive skin. Her tiny frame. The plumpness of her lips.

What would she say about all this? She'd tell me I was a slut. She'd tell me I shouldn't have been so stupid.

And she was right. I was so, so stupid. I'd been warned. I'd been given an opportunity to avoid this happening again.

Why hadn't I listened to Dory and Himari? Why had I been so stupid?

I kept crying. I cried all through Ryōma's turn.

As he finished my phone rang—had it already been an hour? Bessho looked at it and laughed, "Well, aren't you popular?" He tossed my phone aside, turning to the boy.

"Come on, Kazuo, you saw what Hajime did. Your turn."

"I don't want to."

"Do you really think any girl at college is gonna touch you if you're a virgin, Kazuo? Let alone marry you."

"I want to do it, just not like this. This doesn't feel right."

"I told you—look at her; drooling, see?"

"She looks dead, and she's crying."

" _Dramatic_. You're just nervous, son, I'll go first, how about that?" He started unbuckling his belt, swapping places with Ryōma.

He was heavier, and it hurt a lot more. It was harder to tune out. The radio was harder to listen too. My head was hurting, everything was hurting.

It was exhausting. I slipped out of consciousness, but when I did that, Bessho shouted at me or hit me. I had to stay awake, he said.

I wanted it to end. At that moment, I didn't care how it ended, I just wanted it too. I wished a bomb would go off and end it. I wished for carbon monoxide poisoning. I wished for a heart attack.

It didn't happen like that.

I didn't die, and it didn't end. Not yet.

When Bessho was finished, it was the boy's turn. 

I hated him the most. I hated that he acted so innocently, that he rejected it so many times. I wanted it over and done with. I wanted him to finish and for them to leave so that I could lie there and die.

There was no point delaying it.

My hatred grew when he started doing it. He kept whispering about how sorry he was. All I could think was, ' _Sorry? Fucking sorry? Go die in a hole you pathetic shit. **Sorry**_.'

As he did it, Bessho and Ryōma cheered him on. When he finished, they each had another few goes.

I don't know how long it lasted. I only know that by the end I was barely alive. I was bleeding and bruised too. I couldn't move anymore. I stayed on the bed as they began to leave.

Ryōma stood over me, "I'm kinda sad. You were a good fuck, Charlotte," He looked at his phone, "Might keep these though—a little souvenir, eh? God, you're so stupid. We'll see each other again on the streets; I'll keep seeing you, even if I have to pay."

"Hajime, come on," Bessho said, "She can find her way out—we don't wanna be seen with her."

"Coming. I think Kazuo could do with his first beer, eh?"

"Yeah, he did well. For a second I thought he'd chicken out."

Ryōma looked back down on me, "You need to be out of the room within the hour. Didn't think we'd need more than a few hours. See you round, Charlotte."

I stayed on the bed after they left, trying to gain the energy to move. Eventually, I gathered the strength to roll over, but sleeping was impossible. The pain was too much.

I rolled off the bed, slumped on the floor. I'd stopped crying. I wasn't even thinking anything anymore. I began crawling, finding my things. I tried to stand, but fell. I stayed on the floor, staring at my bloody and bruised legs.

I didn't think I'd be getting out of this room alive—I didn't have the energy.

It was cold in the room now too. Cold and dark.

I curled up on the floor, imagining that I was a little woodlouse under a cold and dark rock.

I was going to die there. This wasn't how I was supposed to die. This wasn't how I planned.

I was supposed to drown. I was supposed to drown after a night of partying and spending time with my friends. I was supposed to listen to my favourite music. I was supposed to feel ready. I was supposed to feel free.

It wasn't supposed to be like this. Yet here I was.

Maybe I could make it better, I thought. The radio wasn't on anymore, but my voice was still semi-intact.

So I closed my eyes, and I began to sing.


	35. 35

** Chapter 35 **

The stillness of the hotel room was suffocating.

I hadn't moved in ages; too scared to break it, and wI wondered if death had already come.

If I wasn’t, I had to die quickly or I’d be thrown out. It was quite frustrating—couldn't it hurry up?

The silence was broken by the door opening. I felt my heart pound; guessing my time was up now.

"Jesus Christ."

"Did you find her? Holy fuck."

To my surprise, however, it wasn't a cleaner.

When I looked up, Pasha and Dory were there. Dory came to my side, his eyes slightly wet, “Pasha—"

"Be quiet. You'll upset her, and get back a little—don’t crowd her," Pasha got on the floor in front of me, he looked at me softly, "Charlotte? Pigeon, do you know where you are?”

I knew if I spoke, I'd cry, so I nodded.

"Do you know how long you’ve been here?”

I shook my head.

“Okay. Are you hurt?"

I nodded.

"Where? You tell me. Your legs?"

"She's got marks everywhere. Pasha."

"I know, it’s okay. Himari called an ambulance already."

"What do we do? What do we do, Pasha?"

"I’ll handle it. Calm down and sit over there.”

"I won't leave her."

"Then calm down. You're only gonna make things worse," Pasha edged closer to me, "You know what happens now, don't you?"

I shook my head.

"Okay. Well, let me just explain a little about what happens."

I didn't like it. I didn't want an investigation. I wanted to go home and I wanted to sleep. I didn't want the hassle of it. I'd die tomorrow anyway, what was the point?

"Are you okay with that?" Pasha had asked.

I shook my head.

"Why not? What's bothering you?"

I burst into tears. Dory came and embraced me. I cried into him, eager for his warmth and comfort. He soothed me, stroking my hair, whispering and reminding me to breathe.

"This is all my fault. I'm so sorry," He'd whispered, "I knew it was iffy. I should've stopped you—"

"Fuyuhiko," Pasha said, "Blaming yourself won’t help. Charlotte, could you tell me what you didn't like?"

I could barely speak, but choked out, "All of it."

Pasha looked puzzled. Dory hugged me tighter, "She probably just wants to go home."

"I know, I understand, but she's covered in evidence."

"But she doesn't want an investigation. You can't investigate without her permission."

"No. I can't."

"So don't."

Pasha hesitated, "Let's drop it for now, and get her checked out in a hospital."

I don't remember how we got there or how long I was there. I just remember a conversation between Dory, Pasha and Himari about a rape kit.

"No," I'd said, when I regained my voice, "I don't want it."

"Charlotte—"

"No! No! No! I don't want it. I don't want any of it."

"You're stressing her out," Dory had said, "Do you even need one? You know who did it. You've got their spunk and her blood on the fucking sheets, you've got witnesses that saw her in that room. There's a history with these fuckers too. Do you need a rape kit?”

I shuddered at the crudeness of Dory's words, but I knew he was trying to help.

"It's more difficult with this particular case," Himari said.

"What else do you need?"

"Concrete proof."

"You've got that."

"Not quite," Pasha said, "This is more complicated because, uh..."

"Because...?"

"Because she's a prostitute," Himari finished, "She's a prostitute with a history of mental illness and withdrawn assault claims."

Dory scoffed, "Oh, fuck you. That's bullshit—"

"But she is—"

"Stop," I croaked, "Stop this right now. I don't want an investigation. I don't want a kit. I want to have a bath and I want to go to sleep."

"It's not just about you," Himari said, "They've done this to other women."

"Then talk to them instead. I'm sure they're not mentally ill sex workers with a _history_. Talk to them. I just want to get some sleep and never think about it again.”

"But what if you change your mind?" Pasha asked, "After the evidence is gone?"

"That's on me."

Dory squeezed my hand, "Charlotte, are you sure? I mean, I agree with not having the kit but, I mean, no investigation at all? Nothing?"

"Nothing. Just bath and bed."

He didn't seem satisfied, but turned to the others, "If she doesn't want it, then we won't do it."

"But what about—" Himari started.

"No. She said no."

Pasha looked at me sadly, "It's not right."

"Neither is forcing her to do something else."

"...Are you absolutely sure?"

"Definitely."

Pasha sighed, "OK. Fuyuhiko's right. We shouldn't force it."

"But—"

"Respect it, Himari. I won't drop it for a while—in case you change your mind—you're definitely sure?"

"Yes."

"Okay...Where are you gonna stay?"

"With me."

"You'll take care of her, won't you?"

"Of course."

"I'll come visit, if it's okay, and if you change your mind—"

"We know."

"Oh, and about Sweden...If you don't feel up to it—it's fine. We have another lead going."

That question made me think about Lyra—I wondered if she knew what'd happened. She'd been quiet ever since I'd sucked Tsukiyama's dick.

“I don't know yet."

"Sorry. You don't want to think about that right now."

Pasha left not long after, still offering the kit and investigation to the last minute.

"You're absolutely sure, aren't you?" Dory had asked.

"Absolutely," I squeezed his hand.

I was relieved to be staying at Dory's. His environment was so clean and unobtrusive. He stayed in the bathroom with me as I showered, and sketched in my bedroom whilst I slept.

I slept for the rest of the day. I was only awoken in the evening by Dory—who'd since left me to sleep.

"I made you hot chocolate—vegan, obviously—Did you want something to eat?"

I shook my head, thanking him. My appetite was nonexistent, but I accepted the chocolate out of gratitude.

"Tsukiyama's here," He continued, "He said he really needs to talk to you about something. It seems urgent, but he wouldn't tell me."

I froze, almost dropping the hot chocolate.

"It's okay, I can tell him to fuck off if you want."

"Have you told him about it?”

"God no. Do you want him to come—”

“Where is she, Fuyuhiko? I need to talk to her.”

"Oh, fucking hell—I told you to stay downstairs! She's not in the right mind. Get out."

"I will absolutely not. This is a very private and important conversation that doesn’t involve you.”

"Uh, fuck you? This is my house, she's my guest, and she's exhausted, so go away."

"No. Charlotte—"

I looked up and let out a gasp. My stomach flipped. I was definitely about to be sick.

Tsukiyama had my notebook. Not my study notebook. He had _the_ notebook. The notebook I'd written the note in. He'd read my note.

"You're upsetting her."

"I have to speak to her—"

"That's mine,” I mumbled, "That's my notebook."

Dory stopped, noticing the notebook, "Dude, what the fuck? That's her property! So much for being a gentleman."

"It's more than that, Fuyuhiko—"

"I don't care. Give it back and fuck off."

"I need to talk to her."

"What about?"

"It's private, I told you.”

"Charlotte? What's this about?"

"...I don't know. I just want my notebook back."

"See? She's had an awful day and you're not making it any better."

"What happened?"

"None of your business. If you're not gonna explain why you're here—”

"I won’t leave until I speak with her privately."

"Well, that’s not happening today."

Dory and Tsukiyama went back and forth for a bit, before moving it downstairs. I could hear them arguing in the kitchen. There was a pause and I heard some commotion, before it started again.

There was a knock at my bedroom door. Pasha looked in, bending at the door frame, "Hey," He was holding flowers and my stuffed alien, with a bag of other things, "How are you feeling?"

I sniffed, shrugging. He sat next to me, the bed creaking under his weight, "Why are you here?"

"I came to check on you. What's all that down there?"

"I don't know."

"Okay. Look, I brought presents. Oh, and look who I found," He held up the alien—Allan—and smiled, "I was gonna buy one, but I thought you'd want an old one."

"Thanks," I hugged Allan to my chest, his matted fur and scratched eyes a comfort to me.

Pasha presented me with other gifts, ignoring whatever was going on downstairs. He gave me lots of hugs and kept apologising.

"I'm sorry about earlier. It's just such an awkward situation, and these things don't get solved easily, and it's happened so much to you, I just—"

"It's fine. There's nothing anyone can do anyway. Himari was right, my history and my job makes things even more difficult."

"It’s still open if—"

"I'd rather just forget about it."

"That's not healthy, pigeon, I mean, how long until it builds up and starts hurting you? How much longer can you keep ignoring it?"

I almost told him everything. _Almost_.

He stroked my back. I froze up; was he about to try and fuck me now? Was that why he was here? Was that all he cared about?

He looked at me, removing his hand, "Sorry,” I stared ahead with wide eyes, "Sorry. That was stupid. You okay?"

There was a loud shattering noise from downstairs. It sounded like something smashing.

Pasha stood, "Stay here. I'll go check on that."

There was a temporary quietness, before the shouting started again, now with Pasha involved.

The end came with a louder shout from Pasha, leading to silence. Curious, I crept out to hear what was being said.

"She might not. I mean, what with everything today—" Dory was saying.

"We can't risk it," Pasha said.

"What do we do then? How do we handle this?"

"We have to talk to her."

"May I remind you that it's a conversation we've had before, many times," Tsukiyama said—I was starting to think he'd left.

"We’ll have it as many times as we have to."

"That's just foolish—insanity, even. We'll have to be harsher with her."

"Force her into hospital?"

"Not force, but she needs help, and she needs to know that."

"An intervention?" Dory suggested.

"I think that's our only option. You know a doctor, don't you?"

"Yeah, but she works in Sakhalin."

"That doesn't matter. Talk to her about Charlotte, maybe she'd feel more comfortable accepting treatment from someone you trusted."

"When are we gonna do it? Tomorrow?"

"The sooner the better, I guess.”

"Not quite."

"Why?"

"It's Genesis' birthday. She'll make things even worse if all the attention isn't on her. The last thing we need is her getting jealous."

"Can't you handle her? I'll take care of Charlotte, you make sure Genesis is...I don't know, _appeased_?"

"Oh, don't be so horrible. She's hardly a monster. Anyway, it might prove difficult."

"Why?"

"Charlotte was supposed to spend the day with her. She was supposed to today, but that didn't go to plan."

"She's gonna go nuts. What do we tell her?"

They continued talking. I listened, noting details so I knew what to look out for—what to prevent.

I appreciated their thoughts, but they wouldn't stop me. Nothing would.

After settling on their great plan, Tsukiyama left Pasha and Dory to talk.

I listened to Pasha and Dory’s hushed voices, before it went quiet. I waited, eventually creeping downstairs to get water.

Dory was asleep, Pasha's arm resting around him. I didn't know what Pasha was doing, but I don't think he was asleep.

I stared, fascinated by how something so small looked so intimate. I felt warmed by it.

I went back upstairs, sleeping until late morning. I didn’t want to sleep, because my last day would go quicker and I wasn’t ready. I was just so tired.

I got myself to do yoga and spinning, still not eating. Pasha had gone by the time I was up, and Dory didn't mention him.

"I'd like to see Genesis," I said, "We’re supposed to go shopping."

Dory paused, "Maybe that's not such a good idea."

"Why?"

"You know what she's like. She might upset you."

"I promised her and I cancelled yesterday."

"You can go another day. We could do something fun. I need inspiration; we could go for a walk?"

"To where?"

"Around the city, the Imperial gardens, the museum; anywhere. Where'd you wanna go?"

"I don't know."

"Edo museum?”

"I need to give Genesis her present first."

"You can do it later."

"At the party?"

"I wasn't gonna go."

"Why?"

"I didn't think you'd want to."

"I do. It's her birthday party and I'm her friend."

“We'll see. Give me ten minutes and we'll go out."

I wanted to go to the museum, but I found myself unable to enjoy it. The approaching deadline was starting to weigh on me. I ended up crying in the middle of a cafe, unable to explain why I was so upset.

When the time came for the party, Dory was still refusing to go.

“We can just stay here and watch shitty horror movies. I've got vegan brownies,” He’d said.

"You can stay here."

"You're not going alone."

"I won't be alone."

I didn't want to stay there. I had to go out. I had hours left, I had to have some fun first. Or at least, I had to get high first.

Dory didn't relent, but I got dressed anyway. I managed to slip out when he was in the shower.

The party was at an aquarium venue a long walk away, but I felt nervous taking the bus alone. I remember walking down the street, keys between my knuckles, preparing to run whenever a man walked past.

I got there without incident, and with a desperate need for alcohol. I'd had three drinks by the time I found Genesis.

"Oh, it's _you_ ," She'd said, rubbing her nose.

"Happy birthday.”

"Yes. _Happy_."

"What's wrong?"

"Are you serious? You ditched me. I've had to spend my birthday days with _Tsukiyama_ , and you promised."

"I know. I'm sorry, but Dory wouldn't let me—"

"Oh, that's it, blame everyone else."

"I'm sorry, something came up yesterday and...I'm here now."

"You promised. You might as well just go now. I don’t want you here."

She shoved me out of the way. I stared at the floor, before wiping my eyes. I went to see about getting some coke or weed, but the dealer said he'd only give it to me if I gave him a blowjob.

I initially refused, but really wanted that high. I gave him the most disinterested hand job ever in the end, throwing up and crying afterwards.

But I got my coke, so I thought it was worth it.

I drank some more before I did my first line, by then I was giggly and nonsensical.

"Charlotte," Something touched my back.

I flinched and looked up, "Oh heyyy," I said, "Have you come over to try to fuck me again?"

Tsukiyama blinked, sitting next to me, "What? No. I was just coming to check on you."

"Why? You're not my daddy, or do you wanna be? 'Cause honestly you'd be better than my actual daddy...I wanna cry. Do you wanna cry? We should cry together."

"Oh, don't cry."

"Don't touch me...Actually, no, touch me. Please. I'm so lonely. Touch my pu—"

"That's not very appropriate, considering."

"Considering what? Yesterday? Yeah. ‘Cause you really care about that."

"What’s that supposed to mean?"

"No one ever cares, I don't even care anymore. You can do whatever you want to me. I'm not gonna be around much longer anyway."

"Don't say that."

"Don't tell me what to do, _wallet_ , or do. Wait, what? I'm confused. That makes me easier to screw, right?"

"Charlotte, I'm not trying to have sex with you."

"You say that, but I know what you want. I know what you all want...It's my fault, I guess, shouldn't be so fucking gorgeous, shouldn't dress like such a slag. I ask for it, don't I?"

"How much have you had?"

"Don't care. Might get some more. Would you buy it for me, daddy? I don't wanna give that guy a handjob again."

"You did what?"

"I'm hungry. I haven't been hungry in weeks, isn't that weird? Do you get hungry? Of course you do. Everything does. Life revolves around food...And it makes me sick."

"Do you want anything to eat?”

"I can't eat. I want to, but I also don't, you know?"

"...I don’t. Sorry. I think you should go home."

"Why are you here?"

"What do you mean—"

"Why are you with me? Oh, sorry, I forgot; you want to fuck me again. Do you want me to bend over for you? Would you like to go somewhere more private?" I giggled.

"No, stop it," He snapped, "I'm taking you outside."

"Don't you fucking try to touch me!" I shouted.

He stepped away, clearly annoyed. I seemed to find that hilarious.

I didn’t know why I was laughing. I didn’t want to laugh. It was just happening.

"Uh-oh. You're mad,” I giggled, “Whatcha gonna do? You gonna hit me? Are you gonna beat me? I‘d like that. Will you hit me? Please?”

"You're embarrassing yourself."

"Hit me, Tsukiyama. Beat me to a fucking pulp. I want to be a pile of guts on the floor—it’s one of my fetishes. I promise to cum for you this time. Though you didn't care last time, it finished as soon as you did. Ahahaha!"

"Charlotte—"

"Come on. You're mad. You're so fucking mad. It's making me so horny. Hurt me, please."

"For goodness sake, you're ruining Genesis' birthday. Get outside before you make it worse."

"Will you beat me outside, daddy?"

"I won't ask again."

"Whatcha gonna do? Will you fuck me outside?"

"Be quiet."

“Will you?” I was still giggling, “Don’t act all embarrassed—”

“You’re embarrassing the both of us.”

“You're so funny."

"What’s funny?”

"You acting like you don't wanna fuck me and beat me to a pulp. It's a little insulting, honestly."

"It’s insulting that I don’t want to hurt you?”

“Yah. You’ve already hurt me, what’s a few more blows to the face, eh? You know you want to. C’mon. I’m waiting.”

He sighed, “Charlotte, for God’s sake; I'm just concerned for you."

"Nu-uh. You're just worried about losing your new sex toy. You don't care about me, how could you? How could anyone care about a bitch like me? No, no, no! You just care about what I could give you. You—"

"You're drunk and on drugs—”

"Let me fucking speak!" I snapped, "You don’t care about me. You just can't be bothered to fuck around with another little slut—getting her to trust you, making her think she's worth something to you—that's all you care about. That's all this has ever been."

"It hasn't. Stop talking. I'll order coffee, maybe that'll calm you down."

"Calm down? Oh, so because I saw through you, I. need to calm down."

"No, because you're drunk and you're embarrassing yourself. You're going to hurt yourself if you carry on."

"I don't care."

"I do."

"Because you're such a ' _nice guy_ '?” I clapped, “ _Woooow_. Do you want a medal, Tsukiyama? Do you want a fucking certificate?"

"That's got nothing—"

"I'm talking. You say you care, but I know what you're like. You're all the same. You're all animals."

"What who's like, _chérie_?"

"Ooh, back at the nicknames, are we?"

"Answer me."

"...Men. Women. You all just want to fuck me and leave me for dead. Don't act like it's something more. You don't care, and neither do I. See? I don’t care anymore. I'm tired. You've all broken me. This is your fault. Don't pretend to care, because this is your fault."

"Don't say that."

"Don't you want to take accountability?"

"You're not making any sense."

"I'm making perfect sense. You're just too egotistical to understand."

"Egotistical? You're calling _me_ egotistical?"

"And you're attention-seeking and arrogant and childish."

"I think you're describing yourself. You're the childish one."

"You treat me like a child."

"You act like one, with your stuffed toys and dollhouses. You don't get to call me childish, or attention-seeking. I'm not the one who—Who..."

I smiled, giggling, "Go on, say it, you know you want to. Go on. Show me who you really are...No? I'll guess then. You're not the one that cuts themselves ‘ _for attention_ ’. You're not the one that wears revealing clothes ‘ _for attention_ ’. You're not the one that has loads of sex ‘ _for attention_ ’. You're not the one who does all that and acts surprised when they're raped ‘ _for attention_ ’. I imagine that was what you meant, yes?"

He shook his head, "No."

"Where am I so solemnly mistaken?"

He didn't say anything, just sighed and brushed hair from his face, "There's no point in talking to you if you're just going to accuse me of foolish things. I'll leave you be. Perhaps I can calm Genesis down."

"Yeah, that's it, walk away. I don't care. You weren't even a good fuck...And you're probably a reptilian anyway!"

He glanced back at that last comment, before shaking his head and walking off.

I don't know what I was thinking. I think I might've regretted what’d just happened, but I didn't care enough.

I went to go to the toilet, and when I looked up I saw Tsukiyama talking to Dory and Pasha. I swore to myself, still smiling, knowing I had to walk past.

"Charlotte, what's going on?" Pasha came over to see me.

"I need to pee. Don’t touch me."

"I won't. Tsukiyama said—"

"Tsukiyama's a liar. I need to pee—"

"Charlotte," Dory approached, "You left."

"You're mad. Tsukiyama's mad at me too."

"No one's mad at you."

"You should be. I need to pee."

"Okay, but—Or you could just walk off. That's fine too."

I walked past, falling over twice. I did my last line at the sink, looking in the mirror, my nose stinging more than normal.

"Fuck," I said, "I'm a mess...I still look fucking gorgeous. Though, weight's not ideal..." I giggled

"You've ruined everything."

I jumped, looking up at the door. Genesis was there, teary-eyed and swaying slightly.

"You just had to ruin it, didn't you?"

"Ruin what?" I put my hand to my nose, telling myself to stop smiling and pull myself together, "Shit."

"You ruined my birthday."

"...Sorry," I looked at the blood slowly trickling down my nose, trying to stop it. I giggled, unable to control it.

"I'm talking to you."

"I'm bleeding," I stifled my laughter.

"You're such a selfish bitch, Charlotte. I've given you so much, and you can't even show up on my fucking birthday."

"I'm sorry. I wanted to, but—" I laughed.

"And when you do finally show up, you just make everything about you."

I smiled, "No, no. I came here for you, because I love you and you're my friend—"

"So you ruined my birthday by making it about you."

"I haven't," I sniffed, almost crying with laughter, "I haven't done that—"

"You're all anyone's talking about. Dory's only here because of you. You made Tsukiyama mad, and now, ( _again_ ), you're all he's talking about. Was it really too much for you to not make everything about you?”

"I'm sorry," I was crying and laughing now, "I didn't mean to—"

"Shut up! Do you think this is funny?"

"...No."

"Then stop laughing."

I nodded, suppressing my giggles with tears in my eyes.

"I hope you're happy; you've ruined everything."

"No—"

"I thought you were my friend, Charlotte. I thought you were special."

"I am your friend," I was about to laugh again.

"You're just a whore that's prettier than me and I hate you. I really, really hate you. You know...I hope you do kill yourself. It'd be better for everyone."

I nodded, blood dripping everywhere, "Yes! You're so right. I should die. I'll do it."

"No, you won't! You'll just fail so you can get even more attention. And it'll work because they're all stupid. Someone should kill you, that'd get the job done."

"...I'm sorry," I sniffed, before bursting into another fit of laughter.

She looked like she was going to cry, and gave me a shove. I stumbled back, trying desperately to stop laughing. Why was I laughing? Why did I want to laugh?

Genesis pushed me again. I think she might've been shouting something at me, but my laughter was deafening. It was giving me a headache. Even when I finally stopped, I could hear it.

When it did stop, Genesis was on top of me, hands grasping at my neck. I'd gone still—like a scared rabbit—when she'd got on top of me.

Struggling was pointless. The result was always the same. When someone gets on top of you, you let them do what they want, or you get hurt more.

Genesis seemed annoyed by my lack of movement, letting me go. I slipped out from under her and ran to the door, the need to laugh replaced by a need to cry. I stumbled out of the bathroom, my nose still bleeding.

"Holy fuck," Dory was waiting, "Alright, come outside, come on," He dragged me outside and wiped my face, "Maybe lay off the coke for a bit."

I looked up at him, "I'm sorry."

"What for?"

"You were right. I shouldn't have come here, and now I've ruined it for everyone. I'm so fucking stupid. I'm sorry."

"Hey," He hugged me, "Yeah, it was pretty dumb, but I understand why. You didn't come here wanting to hurt anyone, right?"

"No."

"I'm sure you haven't ruined it. If anything, everyone'll just get drunker and have a better time."

"Bullshit."

"I've seen worse go down at a party. Seriously," He hugged me again, "Let's just go home now, and talk about what we do next."

"In what way?"

"You're sick, Charlotte, like, way worse than before. I know we were gonna handle it for a bit, but this is outta control now. I think we have to get you some help...Right?"

I stared at him, "OK."

"We'll talk about it at home. You can tell me what you're comfortable with. Hold this to your nose and keep it still. I'll literally be two seconds; I just have to find Pasha."

The second he went inside, I left. I appreciated Dory's offer, but I had something to do.

I caught the final bus that brought me closest to Mitake and began walking along the river, looking for a nice spot. I found somewhere by the mountains, sitting down for a bit to stare at the woods—to take in nature for a final time.

I found great peace in it. The trees and shrubs were shadows in the night, but I felt their presence. They welcomed me into the forest, inviting me to stay awhile.

I lay down, wondering if I could stay there forever. I wanted to be around them for longer.

I stared up at the sky, disappointed by how cloudy it was that night. I'd wanted to enjoy the sky before I went into the river.

At least the moon was out; shyly peering down on me from the mountains.

I lay there for hours, delaying what I had to do.

Did I have to die? Was that truly my only choice? Was that what I really wanted?

I knew it wasn't. I knew Dory was right; I needed help. I needed to recover.

There was a chance then. It would take hard work and it would be painful, but I had a chance.

But I didn't know if I had the energy, the resilience, or the strength. I didn't know if it would be worth it. Perhaps I'd recover and end up here again within a year.

Then again, those trees and plants, the little cells and insects I studied; the sheer beauty of the world. What kind of idiot wouldn't want to enjoy that for as long as possible?

Then there were all the other things I enjoyed. The things I had to do.

What if aliens came to earth and I missed it? What if some deep-sea world was discovered without me seeing it?

The chances were slim, but if they did happen, I’d miss it, and did I want to give those chances up?

I knew I had a choice; lose everything, or try my best and have a chance of enjoying everything for longer.

I looked up at the sky; perhaps the cosmos would give me an answer.

It only stared down at me. It was waiting for my answer. For once, I had control. I could choose what happened next.

I approached the river and looked at the up at the moon peeking from the mountains, observing me with a childishness I was rather fond of.

I smiled, before jumping into the river.


	36. 36

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *  
> Hi! Sorry for the late chapters lately. 
> 
> My two hamsters died recently, (as well as my fish and my dog), and I got a puppy on Monday—so I’ve been pretty busy! My puppy’s a chihuahua so he's really tiny and chaotic and I have to constantly watch him. He's also been keeping me up at nights, and I have insomnia, so I've been very exhausted lately!
> 
> I've been spamming Instagram with pictures of him, so feel free to check out my Insta (@stephpencils—shameless plug, I know).
> 
> I hope you can understand. Thanks for reading!

**Chapter 36**

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!"

"I think you need to calm down."

"Calm down? Calm fucking down? My suicidal best friend just had a public meltdown, then disappeared into the night, and you're telling me to calm down?"

"Well, panicking won't get us anywhere. Maybe you should just have some honey tea, and—"

"Sure, Tsukiyama, let's have some fucking honey tea. Oh, and light some candles too, hey! Let's all have a bath with rose salts before snorting essential oils—I'm sure that'll make everything better. I'm sure Charlotte'll just come skipping in on her own, and she'll be just fine. Doesn't that sound like fan-fucking-tastic idea, Pasha?"

"You're being very aggressive, Fuyuhiko."

"I swear, hold me back before I assault him."

"I'd like to see you try. You're tiny."

"That's it—"

"No, getting in a fight won't get us anywhere. And Tsukiyama's right."

"What? No, he's not."

"You need to calm down. That's why we came back here."

"I don't need to calm down, and we came back because you were all, ' _Oh, let's go back to Dory's in case she comes back_ ', not because of me."

"Fuyuhiko, please, you're making this twice as difficult."

"Me? You're the one that keeps coming in with your bright-fucking-ideas."

"For goodness' sake, just sit down."

"She's not gonna come back here. We need to go back out and look for her."

"Where exactly would she be? I don't know if you've noticed, but we're in one of the world's busiest cities."

"She can't have gone far."

"I refer to my earlier point."

"Are you actually going to be helpful or you just gonna tell me I'm wrong?"

"He's right."

"Who's side are you on, Pasha?"

"No one's. I want to make sure Charlotte's safe. Isn't that what matters right now?"

"Definitely, now, should we consider calling the police?"

"That's literally the worst thing you could've suggested."

"It was just a suggestion. Perhaps we should let the professionals do their job."

"Pasha's a policeman."

"I'm a homicide detective."

"See? He's hardly qualified."

"Shut up."

"But I'm not qualified."

" _Ahem_."

"What now?"

"I didn't say any—"

They looked up, Dory gaping slightly, "OhmyGod."

"Oh, goodness, Charlotte! What on earth happened to you? Have you any idea how worried we've been?"

"Dory, get me a fucking towel. Jesus, Charlotte," Pasha came to my side, touching my head, "Fucking hell, you're freezing. Come on, pigeon."

"What did you do?" Dory asked, coming to my side as well.

"Dory, just get a towel, please."

Dory protested, insisting on staying with me, but was ignored until he went to get a towel

"Where are your clothes?" Tsukiyama asked, wrapping me in his jacket.

"Let's just get her warm first," Pasha said, leading me into the living room.

"Do you think she has hypothermia?"

"I'm not a doctor. Charlotte, can you talk?"

"Yeah."

"Good. That's good. What happened?"

"I jumped in a river."

"Why would you do that?" Tsukiyama asked, Pasha shot him a look.

"I wanted to swim."

"Did you? Really?"

"Yeah."

They shared a glance.

"I didn't try to kill myself."

"We're not angry, Charlotte; you can tell us."

"I didn't do it because I wanted to die. I just wanted to swim."

"Why a river?" Tsukiyama asked, "Rivers are quite dangerous. Why not a pool?"

I stared at him, "Whose pool?"

"Mine or Genesis'."

"Genesis hates me, so do you. You'd kick me out."

"I wouldn't, and I don't hate you. Why would I hate you?"

"Because of what I said."

"Oh, Charlotte—"

"I brought blankets, hot chocolate; literally everything," Dory returned.

"Is that it?" Pasha asked.

"Dude, do I look like I have a lot of stuff?"

"I've got more," Tsukiyama said, "Why don't you call Matsumae and ask her to bring some things over?"

"Fuck off, I'm staying with her. Charlotte, are you OK? What did you do?"

"I jumped in a river."

"OK. Wh—"

"We've been through that already," Tsukiyama said, wrapping a blanket around me.

"How do you feel?" Pasha asked, "Cold?"

"Warmer now."

"You could do with a bath, I think," Tsukiyama said.

"I get it. I stink. I'm a mess."

"I didn't mean it like that."

"You look tired."

"I _am_ tired."

"Well, as soon as we know you're safe, you can sleep," Tsukiyama said, "But I also believe we need to talk."

"Right, your _intervention_."

"How did you know about that?" Dory asked.

"I was listening to you."

"You little shit—Anyway, is now really the time?"

"Yes. He's right—"

"Pasha, for fuck's sake, stop agreeing with him."

"But he's right. We need to make sure she's not in any immediate danger. We can get into the details tomorrow, but for now, we need to make sure Charlotte won't do anything."

"I won't."

"I want to believe you."

"But...?"

"We can't trust that."

"I want to get better. I want help. I don't want to live like this anymore. I mean it this time. I want to try and get better; really try. I know it'll be hard, but I really, _really_ want to try."

There was silence.

"How much of that do you mean?" Tsukiyama asked.

"Hey," Pasha said, "Don't accuse her of lying."

"I was just asking a very reasonable question."

"You're calling her a liar."

"I'm just saying; she could easily be saying this to ease our minds."

"No. I mean it. I want help. I need help. I'm not lying, I—"

"See? You've upset her now," Dory said, sitting on the arm of the sofa, "I believe you, Charlotte. What do you need? I'll get you everything and more. Tell me what you need."

"Help."

"What help do you think you need? Medication? CBT? Hospitalisation? Drugs? I can get more CBD—that's not an issue."

"I just want help. I don't know what help. I just want someone to help me."

"Okay. Well, I'll see what I can do. I know a pretty good doctor in Sakhalin—she used to treat me. Is there anything you know you definitely don't want?"

"Antidepressants. Or any medication, for that matter; but I won't take antidepressants."

"That it?"

"Yes."

"I'll call my friend and see what she can do—"

"Hold on," Tsukiyama said, "What if the only help available is medication?"

"That won't happen, not with this doctor."

"It might though, even if it's unlikely—we should prepare," Pasha said, "So, if it does happen, what do we do?"

Dory looked at me. I shrugged, "I don't know. I won't take them. So I guess I'll just... _die_."

"Don't say that."

"I can't keep doing this anymore. If there's no help appropriate for me, then what's the point of living? I want to enjoy life, and I can't recover on my own. But I don't want antidepressants. That's my fault and I get that, but I can't take them."

"Why are you so against medication?"

"Antidepressants don't work, everyone knows that, and it's not like they solve the problem. If you stop taking them, you just get depressed again. I don't want to spend the rest of my life taking pills."

"I'm not sure it works like that."

"I don't want to risk it."

"We'll find a way around it," Dory said, "How are you feeling now?"

"Emotionally or physically?"

"Both."

"I'm tired and cold. I'm too tired and cold to think about being anything other than tired and cold."

"You can go to bed soon."

"Aren't you done questioning me?"

"We just have to make sure you're safe."

"Can we do that whilst I'm in bed? And like, not in freezing, wet underwear?

"Oh, shit."

"You didn't get her a change of clothes?"

"I was rushing. They're in her room."

"I'm not going to get them—"

"Why not? You let me do everything else."

"Could you two stop fighting?"

"He started it."

"No, I didn't—"

"For fuck's sake, I'll do it. Come on, Charlotte, you can have a bath too. Could you two try and calm down, please?"

We went upstairs; I remember Pasha sitting in the corner of the bathroom, waiting patiently for me to finish. When I finished, he was blushing.

"I don't mind you looking," I said, "Everyone else does."

"It's creepy. Here, these are your pyjamas, right?"

"Thanks," I yawned, "I wanna go to bed."

"I know, just a bit longer."

"Why?"

"Just so you're safe."

"I can't kill myself if I'm asleep."

"It's not about that."

"I just wanna go to bed. Can't we just talk about whatever it is tomorrow?"

"We will have those conversations tomorrow," He looked at me, sighing, "You do look exhausted. I guess—"

"Could you deal with Fuyuhiko? I'm about to strangle him," Tsukiyama asked, appearing at the stairs.

"Why me?"

"He likes you."

"What are doing? Are you shouting at Pasha now?"

"No, I was just asking him to deal with a borderline child."

"Oh, no, Charlotte, what happened? Why are you crying?"

"What? No, not her—Oh, Charlotte, why are you crying?"

"It's probably your fault."

"Dory."

"Sorry, Pasha, but did he upset her?"

"I don't know. Charlotte? What's wrong, pigeon?"

"You're all being so horrible. I'm tired, and I just want to go to sleep. That's all."

"See? It is all your fault, Tsukiyama—"

"Will you stop blaming me for everything? I'm not—"

"But it's your fault, so why shouldn't I blame you?"

"Because—"

"That's enough. One of you downstairs with me, one of you help Charlotte to bed. God, you two are ridiculous."

"He started it—"

"I don't care who started it. Come on, who's going where?"

Dory stepped to my side, waiting for Tsukiyama to leave. He didn't, waiting for Dory to leave. I was getting tired of the fighting, (as was Pasha, who was about to throttle both of them), so I slunk off to my room without another word.

I heard some more bickering, which was silenced by Pasha, before Dory came in. I was already half-asleep. I remember him saying something as he snuggled next to me.

I didn't wake up next to Dory, but Tsukiyama was in my room. He was reading something, unaware of my consciousness.

I wasn't in pain, so I could only assume ( _hope_ ) he hadn't taken advantage of me in the night. Still, where was Dory? How long had he been there? Had he been watching me?

"How long have you been there?" I asked. He looked up at me. I assumed he hadn't stayed the night; he looked far too groomed.

"Oh, not that long," He said, stroking his hair, "But _bienvenue de retour_."

"What time is it?"

"About nine. I'll tell Fuyuhiko you're awake."

I nodded. He seemed slightly cold, which was unsurprising considering the hell I'd put him through. Though, now that I wanted to recover, I hoped I could become closer to him again.

I waited, he eventually returned, "He wants to know what you want to eat; and no, you don't have a choice," He smiled thinly.

"Fruit, please."

"Fine."

"And, Tsukiyama? I need to speak to you."

"I'll be back in a moment, "When he returned, he sat back down and seemed to look down on me, "What did you want?"

"I just wanted to apologise for saying what I said. I didn't mean to upset you, I just-I was really confused, and upset, and angry, and scared. It wasn't personal. I was just being stupid and emotional. I'm really sorry."

He stared at me, "Oh, Charlotte, this seems to happen a lot, doesn't it?"

"I'm sorry. I'll try and get better at understanding myself."

"I should hope you recovering will do that. That is, if you still intend to recover?"

"Of course I do. I know you think I'm lying, but–"

"It's not that I think you're a liar, I've just heard this little speech before. Think of it as an experiment; we've had the same results before. You can't blame me for thinking this time will be the same."

"No, but I mean it this time. I'm not just saying it to make someone feel better. I want to recover. I want to be healthy, and not just physically. I want good mental, spiritual, social, and physical health. I wanna be put together, so I can enjoy my life, no matter how pointless and short it is. I'm tired of existing; I want to live."

He scoffed, smiling, "If you truly mean it; you'll have my support."

"Thank you. Would you help me? I need to make a plan for what to do; I know Dory's getting me some help, but I have to do some of the work myself."

" _Bien sûr_. What is it?"

"I was thinking, I should probably be physically healthy first, because good mental health goes with it."

"True. What exactly did you mean by spiritual health?"

"I just wanna feel connected to things. To myself, the Earth, the fucking universe. I just wanna feel at peace, and balanced."

"I see."

"I kinda hope social health will come naturally."

"...Perhaps."

"Tsukiyama, what's wrong? Did I upset you? You're being a little short with me. I really didn't mean what I said—Wait. This isn't about the other night, is it?"

He didn't say anything.

"Oh, right," I said, "I assumed it was only sex."

"Did you really?"

"That's all it ever is—did you think it was anything else?"

"It couldn't be; we're different species."

"Never stopped us before, and you said we're not supposed to talk about that."

"Yes, and that works in a non-romantic context, but we both know your curiosity will get the better of you."

"Yeah, but...you're being all shifty about it. You think there's something more, either that or you're weird about sex."

"I'm not. What did you think? You're asking questions; I assume you've considered it."

"Well...I like you and everything, more than a friend; I think we could have something romantic, however, I've had loads of relationships before and they've all been the same. How exactly do you feel?"

"About what? You? Or a romantic relationship?"

"Both."

"I think you're certainly attractive, but I don't believe romance could work between our species. That being said, I do have certain desires around you—not sexual—which, (honestly), are slightly confusing, possibly concerning."

"Me too, but there's no reason why we can't give it a go. Not quite romance—no titles—we could just be a couple."

" _Pardon_ , but I don't follow."

"I mean, we can still be whatever we were before; but we can also express those weird ( _intimate_ ) and sexual desires we have about each other. Like friends with benefits, kinda, only a bit more intimate. A free relationship—I guess—with no titles or limits."

"I'm understanding more; go on."

"It'd be an open relationship, obviously; because of my job, species, and we both like other genders. I'm making it sound more confusing than it is. What I'm trying to say is; we should just see what happens, tell each other what we feel about each other, have sex and do whatever we want. We'll just have a relationship of sorts. Please tell me I'm making some sense."  
  


"You're proposing something exploratory—an expedition of ourselves and our relationship physically, emotionally and spiritually. You're proposing something that can have the aspects of a ' _typical_ ' relationship would; we'll show affection, make love, touch each other, make each other feel better—I don't know—but we aren't under any pressure from each other to title it or maintain anything. I think it sounds rather fun; new, at least."

"Right. But we don't have to do anything like, right now. It's up to you."

"And you. I'm not the only one in this nameless relationship."

"Wow. Did you just think about someone other than yourself?"

"Be quiet. I've always cared for you."

"There's a hole in that statement somewhere."

"Hush. Personally I think your idea could work. At the very least, it should allow us to express ourselves less awkwardly."

"It'd help us figure out how we feel too, maybe."

"I think it sounds like a good idea."

"I'm into it. So...I guess that's that, then?"

"I suppose it is."

"Okay. That's good. I guess now we just...I don't know. See what happens."

"Why don't we go out together later?"

"Sure."

"Good. Come along now, Fuyuhiko will get worried if we're much longer."

I didn't know why, but I held out hope for this nameless relationship. I'd never had something like it before, but it seemed pretty perfect for me, especially at that time in my life.

I thought that maybe, things were finally starting to look up.


	37. 37

**Chapter 37**

"Okay, that's cute."

"Hm?"

"Look at them."

I accepted a coffee from Shuu—I was calling him by his first name, finally—and smiled at Dory and Pasha.

They'd both been exhausted, so had left Shuu to make breakfast—which had been somewhat of a safety hazard, (I've never seen someone get so worked up over a fruit salad)—so the two of them could sleep...on the sofa... _together_.

It was very cute. They were snuggled up together, Pasha's chin on Dory's head, Dory's hand on his chest.

I didn't normally get soppy over those things, but something about the two of them together made me feel warm. I still didn't know what Pasha's orientation was, but looking at them; well, it seemed pretty obvious.

"Isn't it cute?" I'd turned to Shuu.

He stared at them, then back to me, "I don't know. Is it?"

"Do you think they should get together?"

"I don't know, that's up to them. They seem to get on, most of the time."

"I think they'd be cute."

"I agree," I heard Dory mumble, "We'd be super cute together."

"Go back to sleep!"

"Kay. Going."

I shook my head, turning back to Shuu, "So, where are we going?"

"We'll just go shopping, it'll be fun."

"What about Genesis?"

"What about her?"

"Is she okay after last night? We should check on her, shouldn't we?"

"I don't see why we should. She was fine when I left—just drunk and on drugs."

"Exactly, so shouldn't we—"

"Don't worry about her. Just focus on yourself for now."

I was good at focusing on myself, often negatively, but I was trying to change that. I began turning my attention to my job. I wasn't sure if I was still allowed to work at the club, so asked Shuu whilst we were in a cafe.

"Shuu, about the dancing job, I—"

"Let's drop it. The last thing you should be thinking about is work."

"But I want it. It's my passion."

"You need to recover first—and that reminds me. Now, I don't want you to feel I'm controlling you, however, I feel I have to say—"

"This isn't gonna end well, is it?"

"I think you should give up prostitution. It's damaging your health. I think it's best if you stop."

"I want to give it up. That was the point of this new job."

"Also, perhaps consider exercising less? Eight hours—sometimes more—it's quite excessive."

I hesitated, "I-I have been thinking about that, but..."

"I'm listening."

"Sometimes it feels like all I have. Like, my entire world can fall apart, but it's there for me. I can always move my body, no matter what happens to it. And I don't want to stop it. It makes me feel so alive, and passionate. When I do it, I just want to keep doing it. I want to keep living because of it."

"No one's asking you to give it up completely. Just lessen it—First to five hours, then three. That's a good end goal, yes? Three including yoga?"

"It’s scary...But I want to be healthy. So I have to do it," I was crying, "Because I'll die if I don't. Right?"

"It just seems scary, but in a few months—or even years—with therapy and time; it'll be fine. You'll probably enjoy it even more. Just remember why you're doing it. To be healthy...And think about all the free time you'll have! All the taxidermy and reading you can do."

"I'd like to do more of other things, but I worry. What if I fall apart without that much exercise? What if I gain too much weight? What if it fucks up my sleep, my social life; what if it makes me worse?"

"It should help with all of that. We'll start off small, maybe lessen spin classes to twice or three times a week?"

"...Okay, but I make money off of them."

"More on that in a moment. That's what we'll do this week—lessen your spin classes. We should also think about adding more to your diet—consistent breakfasts, perhaps?"

"Mhm. But what about money?"

"You're finishing your bachelor's, why not focus on that and your health?"

"How can I do that without money?"

"You don't have to worry about money. For one, you have money, even if it's for university, you have it. I'd also like you to stay with me for now—more space, no payments—Oh, and I'm putting monthly payments into your account."

"What? No! Don't do that—"

"I've already done it. It's just a small monthly payment; you can't stop me."

"I can withdraw it and give it back."

"You don't have to use it, it's just there. I don't care what you do with it. It's hardly anything, anyway."

"No. I can't—"

"You need money, don't you?"

"Yes, but—"

"There you have it. I'll stop them when you're back at work if it bothers you that much. Just accept it for now, would you?"

"...Thanks. That's very kind of you."

"I know. Anyway, I must ask," He touched my hand, staring at it as if I was some kind of weird thing, "When you recover, you do intend on addressing your sexual assault, don't you?"

"That was... _sudden_. Well. Um. I mean, eventually...But I'd rather get my weight up a little first."

"I didn't mean right now, obviously, but you can't just keep it secret again. It's quite important."

"Yeah, but I'd rather just take it slow for now, wait till there's a professional involved."

We didn't talk about it again, and went about our day together joyfully, though I got the feeling I was being watched. I hadn't heard anything from Lyra in ages, so I was expecting her visit at any moment, especially as I supposed to be going to Sweden in a few days—something I knew she wouldn't like.

When we got back in the evening, Pasha and Dory were up and we had lots of long conversations—one of which was about whether I could go to Sweden.

"Are you sure going's a good idea?" Shuu had asked.

"It might be good for you," Said Dory, "Like, getting away might help for a bit, and Sweden's supposed to be like, super safe for women, right?"

"That is a good point," Shuu said, "But the reason she's going won't help her."

"I'd like to go," I'd said, "The sooner I can get Lyra out of the picture, the quicker I can recover. I'll do anything to help. And Dory's right, it might help. When are you going? I forgot."

"Day after tomorrow."

"So soon? I can do that, I think. Sure. Let's go."

"Are you sure?" Pasha asked, hand on my knee, "Because I can get another translator."

"I want to go."

"Okay then. If that's what you want."

"Should someone else go?" Shuu asked, "Not that I don't trust you, but if something were to happen, perhaps two people would be better suited to deal with her?"

"What would happen?"

"You might get upset or harm yourself. We can't expect Pasha to handle it alone."

"Oh, but I can?" Dory asked, "I don't mind, but you're all pretty ready to hand her to me when shit hits the fan."

"Not yesterday."

"All day yesterday. I just got tired near the end, believe it or not," He sat up, "On that note; I'll go with you to Sweden."

Shuu scoffed, "What? I was thinking I'd go—"

"I'm an architect—an artist—whilst I'm there I can get inspiration, and they're like, super eco-friendly. And I'm better than you with Charlotte—that's why you always put it on me. So I'll go, you stay here and move her stuff over."

"What do you think?" Pasha asked.

"I'm fine with whatever."

"Then it's settled."

"But—"

"We're not fighting again. Dory's going. Okay?"

Shuu didn’t look okay with it, but Pasha took his silence as a yes. Dory and Pasha shared a smile, before Dory took my hand, "Hey, now we can cause chaos in another country!"

"We're there to work."

"Not all the time. We can have some fun, can't we?"

"A little, but if you two cause chaos—"

"Wait, how homophobic is Sweden? It's safe for women, so it must be for gays, right?"

"Probably the least homophobic place on Earth."

"Yay! That means I get to add Sweden to the map."

"Map?"

"Don't you know? He's got a map in his bedroom that he scratches countries off."

"Why?"

"So he can mark all of his... _Conquests_."

"You what?"

"Every time I shag a man from a different country, I put a pin on the map. I've only got like, ten at the moment, but I hope to conquer the world."

"Small ambitions, huh?"

"It's my only goal in life. And—just saying—I'd get a lot of surface area outta the way if Russia was scratched off."

Pasha scoffed, "Good luck with that. In cities, gay people can't even hold hands without getting abused."

"But we're not in Russia, Pasha."

"I feel like I'm intruding on this conversation," Shuu whispered to me.

"Me too."

"Should we leave?"

"Pasha might feel uncomfortable with Dory flirting. We don't know if he's..."

"What are you talking about?"

"Charlotte's getting tired. I thought she could stay with me tonight."

"And leave me all alone?"

"You've got Pasha."

"Oh, yeah, you wanna stay over?"

Pasha hesitated, "Sure. I've drunk too much anyway."

"Great," Dory turned to me, "You okay with that?"

"Yeah, see you tomorrow."

I was slightly worried. I didn't think Dory was a predator at all, but I didn't want him to make Pasha uncomfortable—we still didn't know if he was bi or not, but he seemed awkward enough, even if most of Dory's flirting seemed to go over his head, (maybe he thought it was some kind of bro thing?).

When we got to Shuu's, I realised he wanted me to share a bed with him. I wasn't against it, more shocked that he wanted to do it, (considering what we'd said earlier, I'd thought I'd be the one making most of the moves). His bed was also massive, so it wasn't like we had to sleep close together, though we did.

"Do you want to have sex with me?" I'd asked.

"Hm? Oh. Well. What do you want?"

"That doesn't matter. Do you want to have sex with me?"

"...We don't have to. Do you want to?"

"...Yes, but also, I—It doesn't matter. Just do whatever you want to me."

"What is it? It's too soon, isn't it?"

"No, I want to have sex. I don't want those bastards to ruin my sex life. I just—I don't know—I want to do it, but I also don't feel...I don't know. I don't know."

He sighed, patting my head, "It's a little too soon. Let's just leave it until you feel better."

"Or...We could do something else."

"Like what? Watch a film? Play a board game?"

"Could do that, but there's something that helps me repair myself sexually whenever these things happen. It really helps—like sex therapy."

"Oh. Really? What's that?"

"You wouldn't happen to be into BDSM, would you?"


	38. 38

** Chapter 38 **

"OhmyGod! What the fuck happened? Were you attacked by something?"

"Huh?"

"Dude. There's a massive bite mark on your shoulder, and like, bruises on your back."

"Oh," I put my hand to my shoulder, "Yeah, that. Sorry, I should've worn long sleeves, it's just so hot and I just got this dress, and it's got really cute peaches on it and I wanted to wear it—"

"Charlotte; I don't care about your dress, even if it's adorable. What happened to your shoulder?"

"Dory, c'mon, haven't you ever seen a hickey before?"

"You–what? When? With who? Charlotte, what did you do? You said you were laying off it for a while; for your mental and physical health."

"Sex, yeah, but not fetish stuff."

"Oh, for fu—"

"It makes me feel better, okay? About all that stuff. It makes me feel _normal,_ sexually.”

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"Who with?”

"Shuu."

" _Him_?—Charlotte—Why?”

"Uh, guys? Check-in's in like, ten minutes."

"What? Pasha, we have hours."

"I like to be early."

"Just hold on a second. Charlotte. When did this start? And why? And how?"

"What thing? Can we talk about the thing in the hotel?"

"She had fetish sex with Tsukiyama."

“Fetish sex? What kind?"

"The painful kind, by the looks of it. Why did you let him do that to you?"

"I told him too. It's not a big deal—"

"It could be."

"Why?"

"You might not be ready—"

"But I told you; it helps me cope with all the... _stuff_."

”Does it? Or did he tell you that?”

"No, it’s legit. I've about heard it before," Pasha nodded, "Assault victims sometimes get back into normal sex via fetish stuff."

"But he hurt her."

"If she asked for it—I mean—it's consensual and it helps her cope, I don't see why we should mind."

"...You do have a point. But if anything went too far, I swear to God I will murder Tsukiyama myself.”

"I know, but it won't. Come on, we need to check-in."

Our first day in Sweden was spent adjusting to the time difference. Though, Pasha seemed to spend most of it knitting, which Dory found adorable.

The next day was when Pasha and I would begin interviews. Pasha's plan was to talk to Hugo Bergström first, then Lyra's mother, then Bergström again.

I'd never been in a prison before, so was rather nervous. Though, Swedish prisons are pretty comfy. I mean, I've only been in one, but at the time I Googled it; so it must be true.

We first met with Bergström's psychiatrist—Elias Larsson. He was older and than I’d expected, but he seemed nice enough. We talked him through our plan again and he gave us some rules to follow.

"Hugo can be a little cagey around women, but he's harmless—you'll be quite fine. So you don't have to look so nervous,” Larsson had said.

"Oh. That obvious?" I smiled

"Of course," He'd looked at me, "But I didn't realise you were blonde."

“And pink! That’s not a problem right?"

"You should be fine, there’s the pink and Lyra’s naturally brunette, and you're much taller than he ever described Lyra. Blue eyes too. You'll be fine. You go inside now, I'll get Hugo,” 

We waited less than two minutes before Hugo Bergström was in front of us.

He looked younger than his almost sixty years; taller and broader than I'd expected. He had a kind face, but I didn't trust it. He seemed nervous too, tapping his leg and looking me up and down rather harshly.

"That's good," He'd said, after I'd introduced myself, "You don't look like her," He'd said, "I was worried you'd look like her."

"Why were you worried?"

"I thought she'd come back for me."

"Why would Lyra come back for you?"

"Because she hates me."

"Why?"

"I'm still not sure."

Pasha nudged me, "What did he say?"

I told him, before we began to start the interview. Pasha would tell his question to me, I'd translate, then tell Pasha what Bergström had said.

We started with; "What was Lyra to you, exactly?"

"A student," Bergström replied, "And a friend of my son's."

"Is that all?"

"Mhm."

"She was in your home, your classes for many years. You knew her well, I imagine."

"I thought so."

"What was she like? How was her behaviour?"

"She was very quiet. Shy, especially around women. Um. She always seemed quite...I don't know. She seemed quite sad—lonely—I think."

"Why did you think that?"

"I don't know. She didn't really get on with the others, she didn't really smile or laugh, and her family situation wasn't ideal."

"What was her family situation?"

"Her mother was a prostitute or something—a stripper, maybe—she was quite pushy. I think she might've pushed her too far sometimes. And I don't think she knew her father."

"I see. When did she befriend your son?"

"At school. She started coming back home with us after class. I don't think her mother was home much, so she was always pretty hungry. And she didn't have any books for school, or ballet shoes, so I got her that too.”

"You took care of her?"

"I guess. And I know how it sounds, but I'm not some predator. I know what everyone says, but I would never—"

"Sir, calm down. We're here to hear you, not anyone else. Now, did Lyra have any other friends?"

"No."

"What about Marin Sandrum? What was their relationship like?"

He sighed, "I don't know. As I said, she didn't get on with any of the other girls."

"Any bullying?"

"Not with Lyra. Everyone ignored her unless she was dancing; then everyone watched her. But she barely spoke, I think they were a little scared of her."

"Why?"

"Because she didn't speak. She came to dance class, she'd dance better than most professionals, and then she'd sit down and go back to being invisible—I used to call her my _Laban_."

I smiled, "Cute. What did she think of that?"

"She seemed fine with it."

"Okay. So talk me through a timeline here. When did you notice Lyra’s behaviour start to become stranger? Did you notice it?"

“I did, but I didn’t handle it well,” He paused, "She was about ten. She was staying over as usual, and I was watching a horror movie. She came in—crying—and said she’d had a nightmare, so I comforted her and let her stay in the living room with me for a bit."

"Watching a horror film?"

"I changed it, obviously, read her a story. It was all going fine until...This'll sound ridiculous, but it's what happened."

"Go ahead. Tell me."

"She snuggled into me at first, which I didn't think much of, because why would I? Kids do that. But then it got weird."

"How?"

"She tried to touch my...My—Down there."

"Okay."

"First I thought her hand had slipped because she was sleepy, but it kept happening. Then she started...God, I hate talking about this. I hate thinking about it."

"Do you want to take a break?"

"No. Let's just get this over with," He hesitated, "She started making certain movements—you know...stroking and... _urgh_ ," I nodded, "And I eventually said no, stop that, that's inappropriate, but she just...She looked at me and said; ' _shouldn't it be hard by now_?'"

He was crying, I noticed, "And what did you do next?”

"I put her to bed. I locked my bedroom door. I thought it was a one-time thing. I mean, her mother was a prostitute and I knew her to be...Let's just say, _vulgar_ around the kids. I thought maybe Lyra had picked it up from her and had gotten confused, but maybe with help from a doctor or something; she'd be fine. She could grow out of it, you know?"

"You got her a doctor? Did that help?"

"No. She didn't speak to him at all. Things got worse after that, and I'd been considering taking full custody of her, but she just...She kept doing it. She kept touching me, or crawling into my lap—she even tried to kiss me. Obviously that made me uncomfortable, but I just thought; ‘ _she's just a confused kid, it's just a phase, she doesn't understand it’_."

"And?"

"It just got worse. As she got older, she'd flirt, she'd try to get me drunk, she tried to get into my bed, she got in the bathroom when I was showering. I didn't know what to do—it's not like anyone would believe me, I mean, really, would you believe it if an almost fifty-year-old ballet teacher suddenly said, ' _A twelve-year-old keeps touching me_ '?"

"Honestly, no. I've never heard of this happen before."

"Exactly, and I didn't want to embarrass her. I just thought she needed more psychological help."

"So what did you do?"

"I made a mistake. I made the biggest mistake of my life, but back then I thought it was right. I thought maybe she needed a break from dancing—from everything—so I booked her into a mental hospital. Her mother didn't care so long as I dealt with it, so it wasn't hard to get her to agree. I didn't think me visiting her every day would be beneficial, so I sent Olof to visit."

"How long was she in there?"

"About a month."

"How old was she?"

"About fifteen."

"And what happened?"

"I honestly don't know, but I know how she came out. I doubt she spoke to anyone in there."

"How did she come out?"

"She came out angry, and most of that anger was directed at me. She told me that I was her everything, that she loved me, why was I torturing her, why did I want to hurt her, she'd only ever loved me...It was...I don't like thinking about it. She did it again and again—she screamed so much she damaged her vocal cords. The whole time I was trying not to cry; because all I wanted to do was hold her and tell her I'd fix it, that I was sorry, that it was my fault. I'd only wanted to help her, but I made things worse.”

”Were you angry with her?”

”God, no. Why would I be angry? It wasn’t her fault. She’d been failed by me, her mother, the doctors; everyone. It wasn’t her fault at all."

"I see. And what happened after that argument? Did it get worse?"

"She began flirting with Olof, doing what she'd done with me, only it wasn't quite as disturbing. She'd do things to him in front of me—and I mean, explicit things. I hoped she'd moved on from me; she'd gotten over it, but she didn't."

"Is this when it happened?"

“Yeah. Lyra had always been our best dancer, but Marin was second-best, I suppose. I spent a lot of time with each of them at the end of class."

"Did things change when it was just the two of them?"

“After the hospital, Lyra would make comments to Marin—privately. I heard her talk about weight often; she told Marin that eating toilet paper would make her lose weight but she'd still have the energy to dance. That didn't work, obviously, and Marin spent her last few months eating toilet paper and failing at dance."

"I see."

"I thought it'd stop as Marin got worse, but Lyra just kept pushing. Like she thought I'd replaced her with Marin. I started separating them, but soon rumours about Marin started spreading and I could see it was hurting her. So, one night I called Lyra over and talked to her. I told her this had to stop or I'd transfer her—expel her even."

"And how did she react?"

"She just looked at me and told me she hated me. She spat at me, swore at me a bit, and then she left. I didn't know what to do, so I just went for a walk. When I came back, Marin was on the floor, and there was blood everywhere and a knife in her chest."

"What did you do?"

"I didn't know if she was alive, so I pulled it out, but she just bled more. I tried everything. I called an ambulance, but it was too late. I was arrested immediately, and in the morning they said I'd murdered Lyra too. And that was that."

"Did you kill Lyra?"

"Of course not. That's why you're here, isn't it? Because she's found someone else?"

"We can't disclose that, sir. The police on your case made a decision quite quickly, could you explain why? If you're innocent..."

"My fingerprints were on the knife, I was covered in blood. They said I'd lured Marin over—that I'd texted her to come over, but I was out. I left my phone at home when I went out. I’d called the ambulance, so obviously my fingerprints were on the phone."

"If you went out, you have an alibi? People who saw you?"

"It was late, and the people they interviewed said I seemed nervous, which I was. They also said the found a diary of Lyra's—it claimed I'd been...I'd been, uhm, getting into Lyra's bed with her and doing certain things since she was like, six. She said I hurt her, that I was verbally and physically abusive to her and Olof. I don't remember what else exactly...But none of it was true, and no one believed me. At the time, I even doubted myself, even though I knew I could never do something like that. I could never. I didn’t do it."

"You've appealed for early release?"

"Multiple times, all rejected. Maybe this could change that...Though, I quite like it here. It's safe."

I didn't know if Bergström was innocent, but that was why we were here. I thought he was probably innocent, given the doctor's testament and that I knew what Lyra could do.

But I was also inclined not to believe him. What if, like me, Lyra was the victim of repeated abuse? What if Hugo Bergström was lying? Why wouldn’t he lie; if he was an abusive murderer?

I had to leave the judgement to Pasha, I knew, but I was allowed to have my own opinion, wasn't I?

"Are we done for the day?" Doctor Larsson asked, "I imagine Hugo's quite tired."

Bergström nodded, "Yeah, but I can talk more if—"

"No, it's fine. We have to interview some other people, but we'll probably be back tomorrow. Is that okay?"

"I'm fine with that, but could I ask a question before you go?"

"Yeah, sure."

"Can I see him? Olof—Oliver—whatever he’s called now. Can I see him? Is he here?"

I paused, "I think the funeral's being held in Tokyo, sir, he didn't specify in the will."

Bergström stared at me, confused, "Funeral? Will? Sorry, what? My son isn't—My son's alive."

I didn't know what to do, so asked Pasha, before looking to Doctor Larsson.

"Oh, no. Uhm. I’m sorry. It seems your therapist neglected to tell you."

"Tell me what? Is Olof sick? Is my baby okay?"

"I was holding off, but I have to tell him now. Would you two mind giving him some privacy?" Doctor Larsson began to show us out of the room, before sitting with Bergström. 

As the door shut, I heard him say, "Hugo, I'm afraid I have some awful news..."


	39. 39

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late chapter everyone!
> 
> I'm currently working on a huge rewrite of this story, and I want it to be good, so it's consuming most of my time right now. It also might mean that chapters generally take longer to come out.
> 
> But I can't wait for y'all to see it! (It's basically this story but gayer, also aliens).
> 
> Also, my puppy broke his little toes and now he's tiny and chaotic but with broken toes, and he's trying to run everywhere and requiring more supervision. 
> 
> So yeah, I'm pretty busy right now. Sorry.
> 
> Thank you for reading!

**39**

"Did I fuck up? I fucked up in the end, didn't I? By mentioning his son."

"You weren't to know he hadn't been told. I thought you did good."

“Thanks. What now?"

"We see her mother. But we can stop for a break if you want."

"Please, and I wanna check on Dory. I wonder what he's been up to, maybe he’s bored."

We returned to the hotel to break, and find Dory. Which didn't take long—he was in the bar opposite the coffee lounge.

"There he is!" I'd cried, "I'll go talk to him."

"Wait," Pasha put a hand on my shoulder, staring at Dory, "He's talking to someone. Who is that?"

Dory seemed very close with an unfamiliar man. They didn't seem to be doing much talking.

"Oh," I shrugged, "Oh, well, let's just get coffee and go. I'll text him."

"But who is that? Why are they kissing?"

"Pasha," I smiled, "Dory told us he was gonna get it on with someone. Let's leave him to his fun."

"But—"

"Why do you care anyway?"

"...I don't know. You're right. Come on."

I followed him with our coffee. We went through our plan, but as we did, I knew Pasha was worried about something.

"Don't be nervous," I said, "I'm the one that should be nervous. You're meant to be leading me here."

"Oh...Yeah, sorry."

"It's fine. Are you alright? You seem worried."

"I'm okay."

"Is it about Dory?"

"No. Why would I be worried about that?"

"I was just guessing. What's the matter?"

"I'm just thinking about something. It's stupid."

"If you're that worried, then it can't be stupid. C'mon. Spill it."

"Well," Pasha sighed, running his hand through his hair, "I'm worried about you, about Lyra—what she's doing, why she's being so quiet, and I'm-I think I might..."

"Go on. I'm here."

"I'm—I want to quit my job."

"Oh. _Oh_. Okay. Cool. Why?"

"After what happened to you, I don't want to work somewhere that treats people like that. I used to do this job because I wanted to protect people, but I haven't done that. I've seen people like you before and I was just as ignorant as everyone else; I failed them—you—just like everyone else. I just—I don't wanna do this anymore."

I took his hand, "You haven't failed me, not at all, and basically everyone in my life's failed me, but not you. What happened isn't your fault, and as for those other people that that happened too. You don't have to quit your job because of me."

"No. I don't want to do this anymore."

"Then fine. But what are you gonna do instead?"

He paused, "I mean, I'd like to go into fitness; like you, but I'd also like to be a nurse or something. I don't know, something that's not what I'm doing now."

"You have to train for those things."

"Don't you think I can do it?"

"I do. You just need a job whilst you're training, that's all."

"I know, I just don't—"

"Hey, you didn't tell me you were back," Dory came over, sitting next to me, "How was it? You okay?"

"It was fine. We're about to leave again soon."

"OK. Pasha, you okay?"

"I’m fine."

"You seem quiet."

"I said; I'm _fine_ ," There was an edge to his voice that hadn't been there when I asked him. I was quite taken aback.

"...Okay," Dory looked to me, "Anyway, I spoke to my therapist friend and she said she wants to meet you, so she can assess you, but she thinks you need in-patient pretty quickly."

"When will I see her?"

"She's in America right now, but she said she'll be back in Sakhalin by the end of the week. She'll call me later to arrange a date, I just wanted to tell you first."

"Can't I be assessed by another doctor?"

"I'd rather it was her. I know she's not gonna force you into anything straight away. Is that okay?"

"It's perfect. Thank you."

"Kay, I'll call her later and I'll tell Tsukiyama. Have you spoken to him since we got here?"

"No."

"Could you? He won't stop texting me asking how you are. It's kinda weird; like, you two fucked once, right? It's not a thing?"

"...Uh, no?"

"Right. Besides, you've already got one stalker!"

"I'll call him later," I smiled.

"We have to go, I'll go start the car," Pasha announced, before going off.

Dory stared after him, before looking to me, "Okay, why's he pissy with me?"

"He's probably just stressed."

"I hope I didn't upset him."

"Don't let it bother you, I'll talk to him."

"...OK, when will you be back?"

"Probably evening."

"Cool, I'll be spending time with my new friend over there."

"Ah. Does he happen to speak Japanese?"

"No, you should know, sometimes you don't need words to communicate. It's crazy!"

"Have fun, Dory."

"I will. You too."

I don't know how he expected us to have fun; it was an interview about this woman's presumed dead, now suspected criminal daughter.

All I knew about Lyra's mother—Karin Lundqvist—was that she'd been a prostitute and a pole dancer, and Pasha had told me that most of her current income came from at several divorces.

Lundqvist lived in a beautiful lakeside house in Åsbro; twenty minutes from Kumla. She'd answered the door with a graceful laziness—wearing a silk gown (it was afternoon) and eating a peach.

"Yes?" She'd asked, looking Pasha up and down.

"Miss, we're with the Tokyo police. It's about your daughter," I replied.

"Ah," She said, "You found me. Best come in, I suppose," She walked off rather quickly, leaving us on the doorstep.

"I love her," I whispered, "She's me in twenty years, minus the kids, and I'll be a scientist, of course."

"We're working, try to keep it cool. Come on."

The house was immaculate, with a deep piny scent. Lundqvist was in the kitchen, her gown slipping from her shoulders slightly.

"You have such a lovely house," I said.

She smiled, "I worked hard for it."

"I'll bet. What do you do currently?"

"Yoga, mostly," She laughed a high-pitched laugh, "But I was married to some _very_ rich, _very_ annoying men—I'm about to finish divorcing another—so I deserve this."

"I'll bet."

"You better sit down then."

I ran her through how the interview would work, going through all the other procedures, before we began.

"Miss Lundqvist, Lyra was your daughter, correct?"

"Yes. My only child."

"And she went missing?"

"My daughter was murdered. You know that."

"...It's presumed."

"She was murdered. I don't doubt it."

"OK...At the time of Lyra's disappearance, you had three jobs, two of which were sex work, correct?"

"Mhm. I was a stripper and an escort. In the day I worked at a pet shop."

"This was to pay for Lyra's ballet?"

"Yes, she was very passionate about it. I wanted to encourage her; she was such a quiet little thing."

"What was she like as a child?"

She paused, "Lyra was—She was an odd child, that's what I call her."

"How so?"

"Well, she was just odd. As a baby she was odd; didn't make a peep, I took her to the doctors and they said she was fine, later they said she probably had selective mutism—which was fine. When she was a bit older she was fairly normal, still quiet, very clingy. She even followed me to work a few times."

"Do you think she struggled with communication? Of all kinds, not just speech."

"Definitely. She was very physically affectionate, and it made things difficult sometimes."

"But she tried to communicate verbally?"

"Sometimes, but it just made her upset. She just began hugging me or kissing me. It was sweet. She was a sweet child."

"How was her behaviour? Was she prone to misbehaving?"

"I don't think she ever misbehaved. Very helpful around the house—even as a little one. She was like a little ghost in a way—she'd drift around and then boo! She'd be behind me. It could be a little unsettling."

I nodded, "And what was she like at school?"

"Academically? Brilliant. Socially, not so much—the mutism made things harder, obviously. She didn't like school—I think she was lonely—she used to cry in bed before I took her. It broke my heart."

"What about at ballet?"

"That was the one thing she looked forward too. I mean, she made a friend there, that bastard teacher seemed nice, but they always do. I'll never forgive myself for that. I trusted him. I put all my trust into that... _vermin_ and he-he did that to my baby."

"You mean Hugo Bergström?"

She nodded, wiping her eyes.

"Could you tell me what you thought of him at the time?"

She sniffed, "I thought he cared about her. He was always looking after her when I was working, feeding her, taking her out for the days. I was so grateful, because then I could work more and get more money to make her life better. But then...Then it all went wrong."

"How so?"

"Before I knew it, she hated me. No more hugs or little affections, no more following me. She was hardly home, when she was all she did was sleep or scream at me. I couldn't understand what I'd done to hurt her."

"No idea at all?"

"None. Not until he came accusing me of encouraging her to act inappropriately."

"He accused you?"

"He said she'd been touching him, basically flirting with him—she was a child, a literal child. As if my baby could flirt with him."

"How did you respond to this?"

"I told him he was an idiot, obviously, and started looking into a new teacher, but he wouldn't fuck off—he kept pressing it and I kept saying no."

"But he took her to the doctor?"

"Yes, without my permission. Then I found out that he'd tried taking custody of her and that he's put her in a fucking mental institution."

"You didn't permit her hospitalisation?"

"There was nothing wrong with her. Well—there was, but only thanks to him."

"What did you do after you found that out?"

"I tried to get her out, of course."

"Did you?"

"Eventually. They said there was something ' _wrong_ ' with her, but they didn't know what."

"Those words exactly?"

"Not quite, it was offensive, that's all."

"What happened after that?"

She smiled weakly, pressing her forehead, "It was like my little girl was back again. Clingy and sweet, more talkative. She told me everything that he did to her; she was so brave, hardly cried. She hated him after that, but bless her, she still cared about his son—Olof, or something—she was good like that. She was such a good girl."

"Did you go to the police about Bergström?"

"We were going to, but then...Then one day she didn't come home, and my baby was taken from me."

"What happened on the days leading up to her disappearance? Could you tell me?"

"I waited for her. I told the police, but they ignored me. They didn't even take notice of me when they linked her to that fucker. They barely spoke to me. I didn't even know there was a trial for him until a week after it'd happened."

"I see. Do you believe Bergström killed her?"

"Of course I do."

"Why?"

"It's obvious; because she wasn't having it anymore. That's why he took my baby away from me. Because she was smart enough to see through him."

"Do you know anything about the other girl that was murdered—Marin Sandrum?"

"Lyra never mentioned her. She never mentioned anyone except for him and his son."

"So you had no idea who she was?"

"None. I didn't know any parents, either."

"And when Lyra went missing, did anything strange happen afterwards? Any of her things go missing? Essential items, perhaps?"

"No, nothing...Why would something go missing?"

I turned to Pasha, who told me what to say.

"Miss Lundqvist," I smiled weakly, "There's something you should know about Lyra."

"What? Don't tell me it was suicide because I know it wasn't—"

"We believe your daughter's alive."

She stared at me, "W-What?"

"In Tokyo, Miss. We believe she might be...uhm, how should I say—we believe she might be involved with some criminal activity."

"Like, mafias?"

"Sorry—bad wording. We believe she might be the perpetrator of certain crimes."

"Like what? Theft?"

"Bit worse than that."

"Not murder or anything, right?"

"...It's possible. There's a link but it's uncertain. More specifically, we're looking into stalking charges."

"Stalking?" She ran her hands through her hair, "Are you sure it's her?"

"We don't have many photos, but we believe it's her."

"How certain are you?"

"Fairly certain."

"...Christ. Where is she?"

"We don't know, somewhere in Tokyo, likely near Adachi or Nerima."

"Can I see her?"

"When we find her we'll inform you."

"Can I go to Tokyo until you find her?"

"You're welcome to do as you please."

"If she's there, I have to go—fuck the divorce—I need to see my baby."

"Then I'll give you our details."

"Thank you."

I did so, explaining how to read Japanese addresses and the like.

"Is that all?" She'd asked, "I'm feeling quite sick and I have to pack...And think."

"Almost. If I may, what happened to Lyra's other family?"

"My brother died before she was born, my parents disowned me when I got pregnant—at seventeen—and her dad doesn't know she existed. It was just the two of us."

"Any pets?"

"We didn't have the money or space."

"What was her attitude toward animals?"

"We rarely saw any, so I think they fascinated her. She used to stare at documentaries or pictures of elephants for hours. I told her that one day, we'd go to Africa and see all those animals for real...But we never got to do that."

I stayed silent. She'd never get to do that, because Lyra was going to prison. I was sure of it.

"Anyway. Thank you for coming to see me, but I need to learn some Japanese and pack suitcases as quickly as possible."

"Just one more thing."

"Yes?"

"Why were you so hard to track down?"

"I didn't want to be found."

"Why?"

"Journalists are nasty, especially when you're a sex worker. They were much more interested in Marin—who's parents were nothing like me. If I was in the papers, it was because I was being blamed or being called a terrible mother, so I went into hiding."

"I'm sorry. That's unfair."

"I get on with it. I mean, look at me now, it can't be that bad, can it?"

"I guess not, thanks for talking to us."

Pasha and I headed back to the car. I wasn't supposed to discuss the case with him, but we did anyway.

"She wasn't what I expected. Bergström made her seem incompetent, but she seemed more...I don't know," I said.

" _Loving_?" Pasha suggested, "I wish my mama had been that nice."

"But who do you believe? Bergström or Lundqvist?"

"Lundqvist. Bergström was helpful, but something about him creeps me out, and it's not like Lundqvist has anything to gain from lying to us. If she thinks Bergström was shady, then I'll believe it."

"Right. Are we seeing Bergström again?"

"...I don't think so; Lundqvist gave us everything we'll need for a decent profile, and maybe her presence in Tokyo will be helpful."

"What about the Sandrum parents?"

"I don't think we need too anymore."

"Okay, so that's it?"

"Maybe. I'll report back and check it's sufficient. You relax though, thanks for helping."

When we returned to the hotel, Pasha went off to make his phone calls, whilst I filled in my day. I met up with Dory later, who walked me through his day in detail and made me drink some almond-coconut choco milk that was _amazing_ in fairness, even if I prefer strawberry.  
  


We were walking back to the hotel when I got a phone call. I thought it was Shuu—who I'd still neglected to call—it wasn't Shuu. It was Himari.

I told Dory to walk on, whilst I accepted it, "Himari? This is odd. What time is it—"

"Fisher—shut up. Just shut up."

"What's going on? You sound crackly."

"Shut up! I have to...Pasha isn't answering."

"You're breaking up—I think you've got bad signal. Are you running?"

I wish I could record the following conversation cohesively, but the quality was so awful I can't even decipher it now. I caught a few keywords, ' _Ryōma, murder, Lydia, scarf_ , _tell_ _Pasha'._

"Himari, move around a bit. I can't underst—"

_Silence_.

"Himari? You there? Hm," I texted her and rang her phone again; nothing. I wrote what words I understood and followed Dory. He was with Pasha inthe hotel.

"You okay?" Pasha asked.

"Not really. I just had a weird call from Himari."

"You too? She left me like seventy voicemails. What did she tell you?"

"Something Lydia, then Ryōma; she said she had to tell me something because you weren't answering. She got cut off, but it sounded like there was a terrible signal."

"Mine too. She sounded like she was crying too. She kept saying, 'You'll know it wasn't me'."

"That's not creepy at all," Dory said.

"It could be serious. Something's happened. She's not answering any more messages."

Just then, Pasha's phone started ringing. We all gasped. Pasha looked at it, before tutting.

"What?"

"It's your toy-boy."

"Oh."

"I told you to call him. He can't stand not being in the know."

"Hello, Tsukiyama. Yeah, she's here...What? She's fine," Pasha looked to me, "You deal with it."

"Hello?"

"Charlotte! _Ma_ _chérie_! You've been ignoring me for two whole days. I thought something had happened."

"No. I'm fine. I didn't realise you wanted me to call."

"Of course I did. Whatever did I do to make you neglect me in such a way?"

"What? Nothing. I'm not ignoring you. I'm just busy and there are different time zones."

"I have been up at all the relevant hours."

"How was I supposed to—"

"Charlotte, do you realise what I've had to endure? Genesis has been a nightmare—I had to skip my manicure and everything!"

"OhmyGod, however have you survied?"

"Exactly! Thank the Gods, I was able to go to rowing club, but I had to cut my shopping trip short."

"Woah, crazy."

"Are you listening?"

"How could I not listen to such concerning issues?"

"You joke, but I'm the one that's had to look after all your animals, and I bought you gifts."

"My animals? You mean the low-maintenance insects and the cat that gives a fuck about no one unless they have octopus treats?"

"Yes! It's been ghastly, and I've missed talking to you."

"Really? You missed me?"

"Yes."

"More than your manicures?"

"...Maybe not that much, but I've missed you."

"I see. Well, I—OhmyGod."

"What?"

"Hang on. Dory, could you speak to Shuu for a sec."

"Ew. Why?"

"I don't want to talk to him. I called to talk to you—"

"Guys, please. Lyra just sent me something."

"What? When?"

"Just now. It's a photo—Jesus Christ. I'm gonna be sick."

"What is it?"

"Yeah, you're filling us with suspense here."

"It's—I think it's a dick."

"She sent you a dick pic? Damn. Didn't see that one coming."

"Get a grip, Fuyuhiko."

"Did you see it coming? I don't think so."

"No. Not _her_ dick. A dick. Cut off from someone."

"Oh, like—Wait, what the fuck?"

"Yeah, what?"

"Look at it. You tell me—"

"I don't wanna see—OhmyGod. That is a dick. _Ow_."

"That's disgusting. What the hell? Why the fuck would you show us that?"

"You asked—"

"Excuse me? I can't share this experience with the three of you. What's this photo?"

"Gee, sorry, Tsukiyama. Charlotte, send Tsukiyama a picture of the castrated dick so we can 'share this experience'."

"Okay...”

”Wait. No, not literally!"

"But you just said—"

"Sarcasm, sweetie."

"Excuse me? What's going on? Why would she send that to you?"

"Yeah, who's dick is it? It's pretty small."

"Dory! Now is _not_ the time."

"But it's small. That's just facts."

"Some man has had his penis removed and all you can comment on is its size."

"Sorry, Tsukiyama, would you rather I describe the fucking blood everywhere? Or that weird stringy bit because what the fuck—"

Dory and Shuu continued arguing. Pasha turned to me, "Did she send anything else?"

"A smiley face. How do I reply?"

"Don't. Not yet. Screenshot it and send it to me. Jesus. Can I see it again?"

"Are you sure?"

"There might be something in the background."

I showed him and we both looked. There wasn't much visible in the background, nothing telling at all.

I recalled Himari's phone-call. She'd mentioned Ryōma, could this be about him? Pasha had also made this link, and borrowed my phone to check in with other officers in Tokyo.

He didn't get anything in reply, but it was evident something had happened in Tokyo, involving Himari and Ryōma at least.

For now, I concluded that it was Ryōma. That Lyra had done that too him.

I don't know how I felt about it, but I didn't feel bad. I didn't pity him. I wasn't glad of it, but at least he couldn't bother me anymore.

I don't think I cared at all.


	40. 40

**Chapter 40**

"I hate planes. I fucking hate them."

"Everyone does. Airports are the best part. Like, look—there's a bloody shopping centre in here."

"Yeah. Where are we meant to go again?"

"Shuu said he'd meet us outside."

"I hope Gen isn't with him. I'm too tired. Oh. When's your stalker's mommy getting here?"

"I don't know. Why do you care?"

"Because I want to know what she looks like."

"Why?"

"I'm curious."

"Weird thing to be curious about, Dory."

"Is it?”

“And where’s Pasha gone?”

"Just there—Oh, fuck, he's gone! He's abandoned us! OhmyGod. We're gonna be stuck here forever. Charlotte, we're gonna die here."

"Woah, chill. He probably just went to pee. Why are you panicking?"

"I don't know. I think my mom left me and my brother in an airport in Russia once and I was there like, twelve hours."

"Why didn’t you mention that you had airport-trauma before?"

"Because I wasn't abandoned before."

"We're not abandoned. He'll be back any second."

"That's what my brother said, and then he fucked off to get ice cream, in _Russia_."

"Pasha isn't gonna abandon us."

"Are you sure? 'Cause he's been pretty weird the last few days. Maybe he's lost it."

"Who's lost it?" Asked Pasha, appearing with our bags.

"Dory," I said, "He's lost it; talking in the third person and everything."

"Oh, please. He’d already lost it," Said someone else—Shuu—who was behind Pasha.

"Shuu!" I cried, "You're wearing pink."

" _Bien sûr_ , I thought we'd match. I was mistaken."

"Sorry, I was feeling mint green."

"I know, you look gorgeous."

"So do you! You look beautiful. We'll look like rosy apple sweeties," I linked arms with him, taking my bag from Pasha and letting Shuu take me to his car, telling him about Sweden.

"Well, that all sounds quite pleasant. I'd love to go someday," He'd said, "How did it go with work?"

"Fine. Pasha's got all he needed, right?"

"Yeah. She did really well."

"They brought her stalker's mom back."

"You did what? Why would you do that?"

"We didn't bring her back, she decided to come."

"Well, where is she?"

"Not with us. She’s coming on her own."

"Will they need you for translations?"

"Oh, shit, will you?"

"Maybe, but you don't have to go in."

"Are you sure?"

"Don't worry, I won't make you go back there."

"Thanks."

It was late when we got back, so everyone went straight to bed, though, sleeping was optional for some. I was quite horny and so was Shuu—turns out I wasn't the only masochistic one. He had all sorts of weird tools for me to use, he said he needed specific things because he was a ghoul.

I can get carried away when I'm in the sadist role, especially when I’m given fairly vague rules. It was fine in the end though.

"Are you OK?" I'd asked.

"Yes, that was... _magnifique_. You're quite good at this."

"I'm good at most things, but are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine, just...rather tired."

"Okay. Sorry."

"Don't apologise,” He lay down and I hesitated, "Come on, you should sleep. I'll have someone clean everything up in the morning."

"Someone cleans up your sex toys?"

"Yes."

I lay down, staring at him.

"What?"

"You're back. It's _healing_. I can see it happening.”

"It does that. I heal differently, you know this."

"I've never seen it though. I've hardly seen you as...something else."

"We agreed not to talk about that."

"I know, but..." I touch a healing scratch on his back, "This must be some form of rapid mitosis, but how? This isn’t right. Not at all. Where do ghouls come from? Do you know? What’s the current theory?”

"Charlotte, not now—"

"Where? When?"

"An evolutionary quirk, that's what I was told."

"Evolution wouldn't do this. Can I take a sample?"

"A sample?"

"Tomorrow. I need to investigate."

"Fine, but only if you promise to go to sleep now, and not stay up late pleasuring yourself to political debates?"

"You know about that?"

"I've watched you."

"Sorry. I'll wear headphones next time...You haven't seen the reptilian videos, right?"

"Your alien pornography? Please, it was obvious."

"Huh?"

"You've got one of those ovipositors. I found it."

"Do you want a go with it?"

"Not right now. Come on. _Bedtime_."

I snuggled up, watching his skin move and seal under a sliver of moonlight—like little worms moving and sewing under his skin. I cannot describe how odd it was, how uncomfortable it made me.

The speed of healing wasn't normal for mammals at all. It was like watching a timelapse, but this hadn’t been sped up.

It was odd. Uncomfortable. Alien. I couldn't stop watching.

I didn't know much of ghouls; I knew they were specific carnivores, they had weird eyes, they healed quickly, and they were starting to get under my skin. Like worms, I guess.

When the scratches were healed, I fell asleep, dreaming of a creature I couldn't describe, waking up in a sweat. I tried swimming to take my mind off it, but could only think of tiny leeches gripping my skin.

When I was finished, it was morning and I started making breakfast for Dory and myself. Dory came in whilst I was making it.

"Good morning, _owl-fucker_ ," He'd said, as I handed him coffee.

"That's no way to speak to someone who's making you avocado toast."

"Ooh, avocado toast? With tomatoes?"

"Yeah, but guess who's not having avocado toast if they call me a _owl-fucker_ again?"

"All I heard last night was Tsukiyama’s fucking orgasm—literally like a horny owl. ' _Ooo! Ooo! Oooo_ '—Good morning, Tsukiyama."

"Good morning, Fuyuhiko, you look disgusting. What on earth were you just doing?"

"He was pretending to be an owl."

“Why?"

"I heard one last night. Must be close."

"We don't normally have owls, you know that. Where was it?"

"I don't have fricking night-vision, do I? It was just loud, and like, really...excited."

"I didn't hear it and I'm quite a light sleeper. Charlotte?"

"I heard it. Must be mating season. Anyway," I gave Dory his toast, "What's going on today?"

"I have work," Dory said, "Where's Pasha?"

"He said he had to leave earlier, he said goodbye to me when he left," I said, playing with my hair.

"Oh."

"I'm sure we'll see him later. Now, Charlotte, what were you planning on doing today, my dear?"

"Not a lot, might work on my pole routine, might do more for my project, might sleep another fifteen hours, might cry for no reason. It's very open."

"Why don't we go out and do something? I haven't got anything to do today and we can’t have you crying for no reason, can we?”

“I’m pretty sure we can, but I’ll go out."

"Excellent, we'll leave in an hour. Oh, Fuyuhiko, what's happening with that therapist of yours?"

"She's supposed to be back this afternoon. I'll call her later; I don't wanna call her whilst she's on the plane."

"Could you try to get it sorted out sharpish? This waiting isn't very fair on anyone."

"I don't mind," I said, "If it's worth it, that is."

"She is, and I'm getting it done as fast as I can. Sorry, but I can't make some things go quicker. I’m not a speed demon, Tsukiyama."

I didn't pay attention to the continued nips and snaps they made to each other. I went to do yoga, and when I returned, Dory was gone and we left.

Whilst we were out I reminded Shuu that I wanted to take samples from him, which he wasn't happy about.

"You said I could," I'd said, “Please, it’s all I’ve been thinking about.

"Must we talk about it now?"

"Why not? It's a few cotton swabs, maybe a tissue sample or two. It takes seconds, and it doesn't hurt, I swear."

"I'm not scared of it.”

"Then why are you so reluctant?"

"The legal connotations."

"Legal connotations?"

"Yes, you know."

"I don't. It's not illegal to take consensual samples."

"It's illegal to examine ghoul samples. It's classed as unauthorized research, the CCG would be all over you."

"Why?"

"God knows."

“It’s not like anyone's gonna find out."

"Well, no, but is it worth it? Really? Risking your future to look at some samples?"

"Depends on what they tell me. Besides, I'll just find a sample eventually."

"From where?"

"We live together. I don't know, maybe from... _fucking everywhere_?"

"That's definitely illegal."

"Are you gonna sue me?"

"Well, no, but I'd rather you didn't risk getting in legal trouble, especially right now."

I wasn't worried about the government finding out. There was no way they could if only me and Shuu knew about it, but Shuu refused to talk about it again that day, despite my consistent nagging.

When we returned, Dory was there again, making himself quite at home.

"Why are you here?" Shuu had asked, "You have a house, don't you?"

"Because you wouldn't shut up about me making my therapist work at godspeed?"

"Oh. What's happening then?"

"She’ll see you whenever you want to see her. You said as soon as, so I said tomorrow?"

"Mhm," I nodded, "Thank you, Dory."

"It's fine. Have you heard from Pasha?"

"This is getting rather desperate, Fuyuhiko—"

"Shut up you _pleb_ , not to flirt with him. I just wanna make sure he's okay. He's being weird at the moment."

"He texted me earlier to say he'd be back about now to update me."

As it turned out, Pasha would arrive only ten minutes later.

"OhmyGod, hey—" Dory started.

"They fired me!" Pasha cried, "They fucking fired me."

"Woah," Dory mumbled, before whispering to me, "I didn't know he could speak that loud...I'm kinda horny."

"What?" Shuu asked, "You got fired? That can't be right."

"Well, it is. ' _Continued Negligence_ ', that's what Chief Besho said."

"You're joking? What kind of negligence?" I asked.

"He was pretty vague, but he said I'd lied about Charlotte's ' _extracurricular activities_ ' when she worked there."

"Which you did."

"It's not lying if no one asked."

"True. What else?"

"He said I'd ignored details in the case with Lyra."

"Like what?"

Pasha shook his head, "It's insane. You wouldn't believe me."

"Oh, this is gonna be good," Dory said, resting his chin on his hands, "Spill."

"I shouldn't..."

"Why? In case you get fired?"

"Well, no—"

"Oh! Is this about the dick? Please say it's about the dick. I didn't view that image just to be left on a cliffhanger. C'mon. Whose dick was it?"

Pasha hesitated, "...Ryōma's."

"We thought so. Is he dead?" I asked.

"Yeah, and apparently she put it in his, uhm..."

" _Ass_? That's pretty funny, honestly."

"Fuyuhiko!”

"What? It's funny."

"She put it in his mouth. It suffocated him."

"It wasn't that big—"

"If you're just going to make jokes; there's the door."

"Rude."

"Shut up or get out."

"What about Himari?" I asked.

"That's sorta why I was fired. They found Himari's scarf and some hair there. I think Besho wants it over with and he has some history with Himari—I think he might’ve done something to her, like he did to you—but it's being pinned on Himari, and I was working with Himari, so..."

"They thought you deliberately left out details?"

"Wait, wouldn't they be investigating you for like, a coverup?"

"I don’t know yet. I'm more worried about Himari. Those phone calls, she must be with Lyra."

"And we don't know where Lyra is."

"Then isn't it good that the police are looking for her? Yes, they're looking for the wrong person, but she'll be safe if she's with the police, won't she?"

"I wasn't."

There was a slight pause.

"I think she's with Lyra," Pasha said, "No one's heard anything from her. She's either on the run or with Lyra."

"Where might she have gone? Maybe we can get there first?"

"Aw, hell yeah, are we gonna solve crimes, but like, off the grid?"

"Vigilantes!"

"Yes! OhmyGod, Charlotte, we're gonna—"

"Calm down. That wasn't what I was suggesting. Pasha?"

"She might've gone to a relative. She mentioned a brother in Fukuoka, but I'll guess the police are already there."

"Anywhere else?"

"Yeah, a cousin in Sakhalin."

"Oh, so nowhere—"

"Sakhalin? You mean, where my therapist is? Where we're meant to be going soon?"

"We have no way of knowing if she's there though. We have no way of knowing anything, not now that I'm not involved."

"So what do we do?"

"I don't know...Wait?"

"For what?"

"Something to show up."

"Like...?"

"Use your head for once, Fuyuhiko, what do you think?"

"Like, another body? What? I'm not getting this, guys, sorry."

"We don't know what. We just have to wait."

"But Himari could be in danger," I said, "Don't we owe it to her to—"

"There's nothing we can do."

"There must be something we can try. Like, we could contact her relatives? Or—”

"We can't. What we should do next is focus on getting you treatment. Lyra's less likely to get to you if you're in a facility."

"Dory said the facility had like, low-security or something?"

"No, it's just like, _luxury_ , though, it wasn't when I was there. There's a heated pool there now and everything, apparently they even have a butterfly garden; it's probably got pretty high security."

"See, a butterfly garden? Won't you enjoy that?"

"I'll just be worrying about what's going on outside."

"I'm sure once you're in there it'll sort itself out, right, Pasha?"

"Well, not—"

"It'll be _fine_. You'll be _fine_. Completely safe. It's probably safer there than here."

"I can't leave you all out here to deal with it...And you'll all have to take a boat to get out there."

"God, no, sweetheart. I bought a house there specifically. Fuyuhiko'll stay there—which isn’t ideal, but you’ll have to cope with him—I'll be there more than here and Pasha can come by as he pleases. We wouldn't just abandon you."

"Yeah, I'll even sneak into the hospital to watch horror movies with you."

"You said it was high-security."

"I'm one of the manager's favourite patients. As long as I don't bring drugs; it'll be cool."

"Weren't you in her care for drug addiction? All those years ago?"

"Uh, no, schizophrenia...and the drugs, and the alcohol, and the self-harm—but that was it."

"I'm sure she'll be _so_ impressed by your recovery."

"Shuu! That's horrible."

"It's true. I’d call it relapse but it’s too pathetic to be considered that.”

“Woah.”

"...Someone stop me before I kill him."

"God, you two are like cats and dogs."

"I can guess who's the dog."

"I swear—"

"Fuyuhiko just likes picking fights, Pasha. That's all he does with Genesis. I'm sure he'll go for Charlotte next."

"That's it."

I held Dory back, taking him outside. Watching his irritated pacing was quite anxiety-inducing, and I started getting panicky. Pasha suggested we go for a walk, telling me he'd sort things out and that I wasn't to bring Dory back to Shuu's.

We ended up walking quite far, but I didn't mind. It was fun, and I got to do yoga in the forest whilst Dory went wild swimming.

We were there for hours. It was soon dark, and we were lying on the bank, hands in each other's hair.

"We should go," I said.

"I don't wanna," Dory yawned, "Can't we stay a little longer. I don't wanna be around Tsukiyama."

"We'll go back to yours, not his."

"I just wanna stay a bit longer. Please?"

"...I don't wanna be out late, it's not safe."

"Right. Sorry."

"You wanna talk about it?"

"About what?"

"Shuu. He hurt you, didn't he? I'm sorry."

"Don't ever apologise for him. You're like, the best friend I've ever had; you can do almost no wrong for me."

"Don't put me on a pedestal, but he shouldn't have said that about you. You haven't even told me about your past, so I'm guessing you don't want many people to know."

"No, it's embarrassing."

"I guarantee it's not as embarrassing as me eating chalk for two years when I was seventeen...I didn't even know you had schizophrenia."

"People just think I'm crazy or shit when they find out...My mom did."

"I'm sorry," I smiled, "I don't know much about schizophrenia, but I can learn. If you ever wanna talk about it, I'll be here for you."

"Thanks."

"You're always here for me, so please, it's the least I can do."

"I just don't want you to hate me."

"I could never hate you, ever, but you tell me anything when you're ready and only when you're ready."

"God, I love you."

"I love you too, but I'm really cold. Could we at least do this somewhere warmer?"

"I guess..."

"Come on. We'll go back to yours and talk shit about everyone else."

"Like Gen?"

"No one's mentioned her lately. Do you think she's okay?"

"I dunno. You don't wanna check on her, right?"

"Not really, but I will if I have to."

"Let's not."

I laughed and put my arm around his shoulder as we walked back. When we walked past Genesis' house, I stopped.

"She's not home," I said.

"Probably partying, c'mon."

"No, she's not home, but the attic light's on."

“Gen doesn't care about the environment."

"She had a thing about lights. She'd never leave the light on. That used to be my bedroom, too, and...remember what happened when we got back from Odaiba?"

"Christ, come on. Inside."

I didn't hesitate, and we ran inside. We didn't turn a single light on, or anything with light. We just lay in silence, waiting for the sound of the front door being bashed or kicked, or a smashed window.

I realised how safe I wasn't out here, in Dory's home even, and I genuinely couldn't wait to be in that mental hospital.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! 
> 
> I’m just annoying y’all to thank everyone for all their comments and favourites, etc. I can’t always reply on all platforms, but I really do read all your comments and they all make me so happy, so thank you! I really appreciate it.
> 
> (Also, plug: changed IG username to @toastyyghost)


	41. 41

**41**

"Don't be nervous. Are you nervous?"

"Obviously, and that's the fifth time you've asked that."

"Sorry. I'm excited for you to meet her. Seriously, she's one of the most amazing women I've ever met. You'll love her."

"Is she cute though?"

"Not everything is about sex."

I scoffed, "Coming from you? The man who admitted to sticking his dick into a pineapple?"

"Hey!" Dory blushed, "Charlotte, don't say that in public."

"You're an artist, Dory, it's hardly a virginal profession," I looked up, seeing Shuu and Pasha approaching.

" _Great_ ," Dory mumbled.

"Who stuck their dick in a pineapple?" Pasha asked.

"Uh-Charlotte."

"She doesn't have a dick."

"Well, it wasn't me. I'd never do that. It was probably Tsukiyama. He's into some fucked up shit; like remember how he beat up Charlotte the other day, or are we all just gonna ignore that?"

"Dory!" I slapped him.

"So you're still upset then," Shuu said, " _Hônnetement_ , Dory, it was just a few jokes, you shouldn't be so sensitive."

"I'm gonna—It's a good fucking job I'm seeing my favourite therapist today."

" _Favourite_?"

"I have a lot of issues, Pasha."

"I'm sure he gathered. Anyway, where are we meeting this therapist?"

"My office."

" _Office_?" He scoffed, "Oh, no, Doryo. Artists don't need offices."

"Yeah, good thing I'm an architect then."

"But mostly an artist," Shuu said, smiling.

"I haven't seen your art yet," Pasha said, "I bet it's good."

"Mediocre. He's hardly the next Da Vinci."

"I like it," I said, "It's kinda creepy, Pasha, like Greek art with horror."

"Oh, that sounds scary."

"Believe me, the line-work's the scariest part."

"Could you guys shut up? I'm an architect. I paint for fun."

"But I thought—" I said, "Wait. So you must have an office?"

"Yes, that’s literally what I—Oh, for—“

"How big is it?"

"And where is it—at home?" Shuu laughed.

"No, you guys; I'm legit. I'm an architect for a firm in the middle of Tokyo. How do you not know that?"

"You don't talk about your work."

"Unless you're complaining."

"Or mentioning that you have meetings."

"Yes, and architects do have to be...Well—"

"Go on, say it, coward."

"Good at mathematics."

"I am."

"You're not. You can't even calculate your part of a bill."

"No. I just choose not to."

"I do that too," I said.

"You—Hold on. So all those times when you two pretended to be too high or drunk to calculate the bill and let me pay...you were faking it?"

"...We shouldn't have told him that."

"Oh. My. God. How could you? You little—"

"Yeah, whatever. Hey, Pasha, you need a job, right? Do you wanna work for me?"

"Huh?"

"Well, that's quite inappropriate."

"And what job would he do? Artists—"

" _Architect_."

"Sorry. What would an _architect_ need doing? You don't need a secretary or anything, right?"

"I've always wanted one."

"I don't think that's legit. Don't take it, Pasha."

"I wasn't gonna take it."

"I could find you a job somewhere," Shuu said, "If you're that desperate."

"You could get an internship or something," I suggested, "Weren't you in business at one time?"

"I'll take almost anything right now, but—"

"Except me?"

"It has to be a real job offer."

"OhmyGod, I'm gonna smash his face in in a minute."

"I'd like to see you try, you're half the size of me."

"If you call me short one more time—Charlotte, hold me back."

"Could you two not act like toddlers for two seconds? Please? I'm kinda—you know—really fucking nervous right now?"

"She's right. You two are being so childish."

" _So_ _childish_."

"It's not my fault he keeps going for me."

"And it's not my fault Doryo has small person syndrome."

"See? It's not my fault! He keeps calling me short."

"You are," I said.

"I'm still _growing_."

"...You're twenty-seve—"

"Anyway, Pasha's right, we should be worried about Charlotte."

"Pasha didn't say that. I did."

"Yes, of course. Come on, Pasha—I mean, Charlotte. Sorry, it's just you're all so tall and I'm so short, I can't tell you apart because the sun gets in my eyes whenever I look up—"

"Let's just go," Shuu said, leading us off in some aimless direction.

"Dang, must be real foggy up there, because you're going the wrong way."

The sheer amount of arguing during the ten-minute walk to Dory's office was extraordinary. I felt most sorry for Pasha; he seemed to be the peacekeeper whenever I was inevitably dragged in.

"That's it," Pasha had said, finally, "No one is allowed to speak until we get there."

"That's not fair—"

"We're not children.”

"Well, you're acting like children. Now, everyone; shut up."

" _Yeah_ ," I sneered.

"That includes you."

"Wh—"

"Shush.”

It lasted a good two minutes before Shuu asked; "Doryo, where's your office? I can't see a small one,"

"Fuck off. It's right here, don't be weird about how big it is."

"Why would we be weird about—Holy fuck."

"What did I just say?"

"Why do you need such a big office? It's not like you need the space."

"Pashaaaa. He's bullying me about my height again."

"I told you both—"

"Dory probably couldn't hear you from down there."

"OhmyGod," I said, "Look at your desk! All the cute little succulents. Look at your little flytrap—eee! And that's the cutest little aloe vera ever. Look at that fucking cactus! It's huge! You could kill someone with that."

"At this rate; someone will be killed by my cactus."

"Doryo," Shuu asked, making himself comfortable, "What does this woman look like?"

"Does it matter? Are you worried she'll be short?"

"No, but there's a woman out there with a lovely orange coat. I'd quite like to know where she got it."

"Hm? Oh, that's her."

"Fuck, she's cute," I said, "Noooooo."

"That's bad?" Pasha asked.

"I don't know. All my therapists have been ugly, so I don't know."

"I'll go speak to her," Dory said, "Oh, and could you two like, fuck off for a bit? She'll wanna speak to me and Charlotte and Tsukiyama's annoying me, so Pasha—"

"On it. We'll get coffee," Pasha said, turning to me, "Will you be OK?"

"I'll be fine with Dory."

"Will you?" Shuu asked, hand on my shoulder, "You'll call us if anything goes wrong? We won't be far—"

"I'll be fine. Just go away for a bit."

"Okay. And ask her about the coat, please."

I laughed, "Sure."

They left and Dory came in with the woman with the orange coat. She was very pretty—long eyelashes and soft-eyed. She was also very well-dressed, the orange coat going perfectly with a navy blue dress and hijab.

Though, I think most of her attractiveness came from how happy she looked; her face seemed to generate positivity. 

She just looked happy, and that made me like her.

"Charlotte, this is Doctor Takane Nouri," Dory said.

She smiled at me—her smile was so beautiful, "It's so nice to meet you. Doryo's told me quite a lot about you."

"Oh," I smiled, "Thank you, and you," I introduced myself and we sat down, a slight awkwardness to the situation.

"So, Charlotte—May I use your first name?" Nouri asked, smiling brightly.

"I prefer it, thank you," Dory's hand was resting on mine, I squeezed him lightly.

"Great. So, Doryo's told me a little about what you're going through, but I'd rather you tell me what's troubling you. Is that okay?"

"I guess...Uh, _everything_? Sorry, that doesn't help. I don't really know myself."

"You don't know or you don't understand?"

"Oh. Um...Um. That's a good question..."

She shook her head, "It's okay. No one understands everything about themselves all the time."

"No, I know, but I don't feel like I understand anything that's wrong with me."

"That's fine. It's my job to help you do that. Now, I won't spend long with you today, but I'd like to ask a few questions, just for general understanding. You don't have to answer all of them, but I'd like you to try. Can you do that for me?"

"I guess."

"Excellent. So, I understand quite a few things are bothering you. Out of all them, could you name one that's worst?" I hesitated, stuttering and getting embarrassed. She smiled and nodded, "It's okay, take your time. We've got loads of time."

I nodded, "I guess, uh...The worst thing would be my, um, the eating issues."

"Okay, how long have you had eating issues?"

"...Uhm," I was sniffling, trying not to cry, "I don't remember when it started."

"When you were a child?"

"Mhm."

"A young child?"

"Yeah."

"Okay. What's your relationship to your family like?"

"There isn't one."

"May I ask why?"

"They're not people I'd want to talk to. They're just...not nice."

"That's fine, but they're not involved in your care, are they?"

"No. I was kicked out at seventeen."

"May I ask why?"

"Uh, yeah. It was the Welsh countryside, so it was quite xenophobic, and I had a girlfriend, who happened to be mixed race and..."

"I understand. Do you think that affected you?"

"Kinda. I don't really think about it."

"Mhm, and in your childhood; did anything especially notable happen?"

"Uh, when I was thirteen I attempted suicide, so I was homeschooled after that."

"Was that the start of your issues?"

"Yes, and around that time...uhm. I was...I was, fuck, I was sexually assaulted, and uh, I had a relationship with my teacher...who was middle-aged.

"That's okay, we don't have to talk about all that yet. Don't force it."

I nodded, "OK."

"Can I just ask; I understand you're a sex worker?"

"Yes."

"And I know that that sort of work can have certain mental repercussions. Have you been sexually assaulted since you were a teenager?"

I nodded, "A lot."

"And you've never had any help with that?"

"No."

"Okay, and that's obviously gonna be huge for you. How do you feel about medication?"

"...I don't want it."

"At all?"

"I have melatonin, but that's it."

"And that's for insomnia?"

"Yeah."

"Okay. So, no antidepressants?"

"No."

"Why?"

"I don't wanna take the risk. The side effects are too awful to risk for me."

She nodded, "Okay, well, with what I know so far; I'd put you on them immediately, but if that's something you're completely against, then fine. I'll go with what you want. Okay?"

"Thank you."

"What treatment would you be open too? Obviously, you'll have talk therapy."

"Uhm, yeah. I don't really mind natural medicine..."

"Okay. Do you like animals?"

"Yes. A lot. I'm a zoology student."

"Oh, that sounds awesome. Do you like science?"

"Yes, biology...and I quite like chemistry, and space science."

"That's so interesting. Do you have any hobbies?"

"Loads. Reading. Cooking. Fashion. Yoga. Dancing. I love anything fitness-related."

"That's brilliant; you seem quite health-conscious. Have you ever competed in anything?"

"No."

"Okay, well that might be something to look into."

We spoke for a few hours. I liked her; she was nicer than any of my other therapists, and the facility she worked for seemed like it'd actually be therapeutic.

I felt quite positive afterwards. Excited, almost.

"I am so proud of you," Dory said, when Nouri had left, not taking her positive energy with her.

"Proud?"

"Yeah, you did so well. Seriously, you're gonna do great."

"Thanks, and fuck me, she seems lovely."

"Isn't she?"

"Thank you so much for setting this up."

"Don't mention it. You're gonna do it?"

"I have to, and I feel much better about it now. I'd like to see it."

"Cool. I think they have therapy pets there. I'll arrange a visit for us. Come on, we'll go catch up with the other; you fancying coffee?"

"Not really."

"Me either. I really want strawberry milk."

"OhmyGod. Me too."

"Fuck. Dude, we're so in sync—sometimes I think we were separated at birth."

"I wish my brother was as cool as you, and I'm white as fuck."

"Yeah, and like, have you ever met an Asian as white as this bitch?"

"Shuu."

"Okay, well, yeah—Shut up. Let's just locate some strawberry milk before I die of dehydration."

Finding vegan strawberry milk is easier said than done, friends. We didn't find any, and had to settle for iced coffee. I know, I know, talk about first world problems.

Shuu and Pasha were nearby—sewing together in a park, near a fountain, which was just a bit weird, but okay. We caught them up and Dory arranged for us to go and visit the mental health facility itself a few days later—this was also beneficial as Pasha was hoping to do training or some other work whilst I was at the facility, so both him and Dory would be around pretty much all the time.

Over the next few days, there weren't any updates on anything to do with Lyra or Himari; but Pasha said that they must've sent Lyra's mother home, and I gad a few passive-aggressive messages from her that confirmed it.

Genesis also still didn't make an appearance. I saw her outside once, but she looked tired and angry, so I didn't approach.

Everyone else seemed to completely avoid the topic of Genesis, and I can't say I complained.

The next time any of us saw her was when we were leaving for Sakhalin. She was outside, and completely ignored Shuu's cries of good morning and other pleasantries, going straight inside and watching us as we left.

"She's being a real bitch about it," Dory said, when we were in the car.

"She has a right to," I said, "I kinda, completely ruined her birthday."

"No, she ruined her birthday," Shuu said, "It was her fault. Don't pity her; she did it herself."

"Yeah, this happens a lot," Dory said, "Gen likes causing trouble and then blaming everyone else for it."

"But I—"

"She'll learn, eventually, it just might need hammering into her."

" _Literally_? Are you gonna hammer Gen?"

And we spoke no more of it.

Though, whether that was due to us avoiding the subject or the fact that the journey to the docks was so terrible.

"Doryo, I swear to God, if your hand comes up here one more time; I will cut it off," Shuu was saying, batting at Dory.

"Then turn up the tunes, my man."

"And stop dancing; you're rocking the car."

"Hey, if you've got the moves you've got the grooves."

I laughed, "OhmyGod. I hate that. Never say that again."

"But it's true."

"Well. I guess what they say's true," Pasha said, to me, "Can't spell disconnected from society without _disco_."

"I hate you bo—Holy fuck!" I yelped in reaction to the sudden rattling of the car, I looked to Shuu, "What was that?"

"Probably just a stone, _chérie_."

"Ow," Dory said, "I jus' bit mah tung."

"I think you might've popped a tyre," Pasha said.

"What? Don't be ridiculous. This is a Porshe, Pasha, there's no way—Charlotte, stop crying, we're not going to die. We haven't got a flat tyre."

That was a lie. We had to sit in a McDonalds whilst one of us tried to fix it, which caused a lot of controversy.

"McDonald?" I gagged, "I would not be seen dead in there."

"Me either," Shuu agreed.

"It's not vegan," Dory said, still whining over his bitten tongue.

"Will you guys stop being snobs and get me a coffee?" Pasha replied.

"Get one yourself. I'm not supporting a corporate chain."

"B-But Shuu, you are a corporate chain—"

"Fine. Fix your own tyre."

"I will. Just you wait."

"We will. Come on, kids, we're getting coffee,"

"I'm not a kid, I'm twenty—"

"You're both younger than me, come on."

So that ended in a delay, because of course, Shuu didn't have a clue how to change a tyre. Pasha eventually did it, teaching Shuu and me how to do it.

"I can't believe you two don't know how to do this," He'd said.

"I don't drive," I said, "And my dad used to say that women shouldn't go anywhere near cars."

"Your dad's...not a nice person. Anyway, you want me to teach you how to drive?"

"No. I don't want that much power. But you know, Shuu's driving could use some work."

"I agree with that."

"I got us here, didn't I?"

"Here, as in; a service station on the side of a road with a flat tyre? Because yes, you got us there, but we're not at the docks. You know, where we're meant to be."

"We'll get there."

"Pasha, is this right?"

"Yeah. Should be good. Well done."

"Thanks for your help, Pasha."

"It's fine. Come on. You want me to drive?"

"No, I'll handle it."

Dory appeared, "Yay! We did it. Well done everyone, I think we can all agree—"

"You didn't do anything. You just complained about the coffee whilst drinking all of ours."

"I was _resting_. Being with all of you is hard work."

"Okay, but I wanted that coffee."

"We'll get one later. Come on, we don't want to miss the ferry."

"Wait, what? I thought we were going to a hotel."

Someone had neglected to tell Dory that we were staying on a ferry most of the night. As I found out, he got seasick, really seasick.

It was the worst journey I've ever been on. Ever.

But we got there, mostly intact.

The hospital didn't look like a hospital. It looked more like one of Shuu's manors, with pristine decoration and a large garden, a nearby swimming pool and several smaller houses dotted nearby.

It seemed quite relaxing at a first glance, but quite confusing. Nouri led us around and explained what my routine would be like, all with her bright and positive energy.

She left me in my would-be room with Shuu, whilst she spoke to Pasha and Dory. The room was cream, with lots of plants and excellent lighting for yoga. I would've happily stayed there.

"Do you like it?" Shuu asked, staring out the window.

"It's nice, perfect. I like it," I replied, sitting on the windowsill.

"But...?"

"But I just...I'm scared."

"Of?"

"All of it. What if it's not this perfect? What if when I get here it's actually horrible and I end up worse? What about my education? What happens there? What if you all forget about me and leave me here?"

"Don't be so ridiculous. That'll never happen. You're just nervous. We'll all be here most of the time. Your education can easily be continued here. It'll be fine, and it'll be a few months, at most. You can come back to Tokyo for Christmas and New Year, I'm sure. You'll be fine."

"There aren't any ferries to Japan in December."

"Oh, you insult me. As if I wouldn't get you private travel."

"But that's bad for the environment—"

"Do you want to come home or not?"

"Yeah, but...not for Christmas. I struggle at Christmas."

"Why?"

"Because all everyone talks about is food and weight and calories. It's already everywhere I go, but at Christmas, it's shoved in my face. I can't escape it. It's like, suffocating. I'd rather be here if it means I get away from it."

"You'd be spending Christmas with me. It's hardly like I'd be doing any of the above."

"No, you'll just be eating human instead. Really therapeutic."

"Charlotte, you're being awfully difficult today. I'll put it down to your anxiety, I hope your doctor does too. The last thing you need is her thinking you're rude."

"Whatever, Shuu," I pouted and looked back out the window.

I told my anxieties to Pasha and Dory, who calmed me more than Shuu. Dory reassured me, but said he'd talk to Nouri about it. It was suggested I spend a few days there instead of with the others before returning to Tokyo to get my things.

They were a very emotional few days, that's for sure. I cried most of the first day, so Dory stayed with me afterwards. Shuu and Pasha visited each day, as promised. Pasha said he might've found a job he could do, so was happy to stay during treatment.

Other than that, I did find those few days there quite refreshing. I didn't have any therapy, but I was basically allowed to do whatever I wanted for the days.

This was mostly exercise, reading and light schoolwork, going out for walks on the beach and such. And whilst I wasn't having therapy yet, Nouri asked me to do things for myself. She told me I was to try meditation and journaling, and suggested I try to cook for myself at least once during my time. I was allowed to cook whatever I wanted, in an empty kitchen, with no one else to judge it or tell me how to eat it.

I'd always been told by therapists to eat with a group of people, but eating alone was much better. The only catch was that I wasn't allowed to know the calories of my food, but my mind was already a spreadsheet of what calories of food there were in a hundred grams.

Those few days were pretty perfect though. I felt comfortable, safe; as though I was healing. The only catches were the calories, no sharp objects, and the only time we were allowed the internet was for daily communication, and I was allowed to watch my lectures, but my workload was limited.

I knew by the end of my few days that it would be OK. It felt perfect for me, and I was very grateful for the opportunity.

All I had to do was get my things from Tokyo and return. I had the option to stay and begin immediately, but I wanted to go back just to make sure I had everything.

Sometimes I wonder what would've happened if I stayed there. Would the chaos and pain of the next few days have happened? Or could I have prevented it?

It's a decision I think about a lot. Because I know I made the wrong choice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: The next few chapters may be shorter or take longer to come out. This is simply due to it being the last few chapters, and I’m working to release my project right afterwards. Sorry.


	42. 42

**42**

I hadn't meant to spend long in the city, and I didn't, not really. Longer than expected, but it'll become obvious why.

There was a silence to the place when we returned. We all picked up on it; a tenseness appearing between the four of us.

"Do you think Gen's still refusing to go outside?" Dory had asked me.

"Probably not. She was only doing that because of us. Still, it feels quiet, right?" I looked at Shuu.

"Probably because hardly anyone's here," He placed an arm on my shoulder, "Don't look so worried. Come along now, we should start packing your things."

"Where's Pasha going again?" Dory asked.

"He said he had to pick up his things from work and pack his stuff," I replied.

"You should pack too, Doryo, Charlotte doesn't need you bothering her."

"But I like it when he bothers me."

"No, you don't. Come on, we haven't got all day."

I waved to Dory and let Shuu take me inside.

"You shouldn't be so mean to him," I said, "Dory's never done anything to you."

"Hasn't he? You know, my dear, he's done plenty to me. When I was eighteen, we slept together and I woke up to find him and my weekly allowance gone!"

"Weekly-allowance? Besides, he was a drug-addict back then."

"As opposed to now? He's always been like it. Constantly in and out of rehab, it's almost comical."

"It's not comical at all. Besides, he's been doing it less lately. I think he's working on it."

" _As if_. Trust me, it's only a matter of time."

"Until what? Shuu?"

He didn't answer, and walked quicker. We didn't speak of it again, but I had an urge to pursue it, just as I had an urge to pursue ghoul science; he wouldn't dictate to me what I could and couldn't talk about. I was done with that.

I didn't mention this to him, and we continued the day in relative peace. That was, until Pasha arrived, claiming he had to talk to my urgently, and of course, God forbid Shuu or Dory missed anything that could be potential gossip.

Pasha had wavered around the subject, waiting for the others to leave, but gave up and eventually blurted it out; "Chief Besho's missing," He'd said, "Presumed dead, they're saying."

"How and when?" Shuu asked.

Pasha looked at him in slight annoyance, but continued, "His wife found his son—poor kid—apparently someone...had a shotgun."

"Oh, how _tragic_ ," Shuu sneered.

"He was a kid."

"And a fucking rapist," Dory added.

"That doesn't mean he deserved it."

"I think it does. Charlotte? Tsukiyama?"

"For once, I agree."

"I don't. Pasha's right. No one deserves to die."

"Are you serious? After how they defiled you?"

"You're right. I shouldn't have an opinion on something that directly affected me, not you; who wasn't even there."

"That's not what I was saying. You can't defend your attackers."

"I'm not defending them. I'm saying they don't deserve to die. Death isn't a punishment, it's the end to punishment. No one learns anything from it, but now the culprit is dead. Does that help anyone? It doesn't help me. I was still assaulted, it still hurts. What does it matter if the perpetrators are dead or alive?"

"Dude, she's kinda right," Dory said.

"No one asked," Shuu folded his arms.

"But I—Whatever. I can't deal with you right now. Do they know who's responsible?"

"Oh, what a foolish question, Doryo. We all know who's responsible."

"She's been awfully quiet recently," I said, "I mean, aside from the odd text."

"Did she mention anything about it?" Pasha asked.

"No. Just like...small talk. It's not like she sent me another picture or anything."

"What if it wasn't her though?" Dory asked, "Like, it was three guys who assaulted you and she might've killed two of 'em, but what's she doing with the last one? Doesn't add up, right?"

"Perhaps she's just taking her time," Shuu said, flicking hair from his face.

"Maybe...But—"

"What about Himari?" I asked, "Himari never attacked me, why's she gone too?"

"I don't think she took Himari," Pasha said.

"No? Why?"

"...Besho was adamant Himari was the killer, really adamant. That's basically why he fired me. But the thing is, I found out this morning that Himari was building a huge case on Besho and Ryōma."

"Uh...Why didn't you mention this before?"

"Because I only found it this morning, and by accident. Apparently, she'd found loads of previous victims—lots of sex workers and young female officers. She was ready to act on it not long after what happened to you, but then she went missing, apparently after killing a colleague, with shaky evidence to boot."

"Wait. Wait. Wait. Are you seriously saying that Besho set her up and _kidnapped_ her?"

"Maybe."

"Why go through the trouble of taking her? Why not just set her up?"

"Exactly, Dory."

Pasha paused, "Because then she couldn't protest. Himari spent years collecting cases against him, we all know she had a bit of a temper, and until recently; she was really respected, especially by the Superintendent. I've heard people say she could one day be the Chief Inspector. She would've tore any of his allegations apart, and she wouldn't have stopped there. He knew that. So, he had to get rid of her for a bit."

"And then what? Magically have her appear?"

"Maybe."

"But then she'll just fight even more?"

He paused, "Well..."

"Not if she's dead," Shuu said.

"You think he'll kill her? How? He's a cop, they can't just kill people, right?" Dory asked.

"Well..." I said, "Depends on a few factors, according to _some_ countries. He could claim self-defence, right? If no one saw?"

Pasha nodded, "I mean, after what happened to his son, he could easily say that she tried to kill him and claim self-defence. No one else would know."

"Would he go so far though?"

"Everything he has is on the line. His wife already hates him, his son's dead, so is his closest friend. All he has is money, his reputation, and his job. Besides, we know what he can do. What's to say he can't go further?"

I sighed, "I guess that's true...But what about Lyra? I assume Besho confronted her or something and they're together somewhere. If he's pinning this all on Himari, then he'll have to get rid of the actual killer. Lyra's not gonna have that, is she?"

"I don't know. Maybe he'll try to bargain with her."

"Would she even consider it?" Shuu asked.

"Yeah," I said, "And when she declines? Then what? He'll kill her too."

"Maybe..."

I placed a hand on my head, "Okay...So, should we like, try to do them or something? Or do we let them kill each other?"

"Could we find them even if we wanted to?"

"Maybe if you tried to contact her—"

"She might respond, but if she's incapacitated, then I don't know—probably not."

"Try it. If not, we might just have to wait. I don't think there's anything we can do, but...Himari. We can't just abandon her."

"Or Lyra."

"You're defending her too now?"

"What did I just say about death and punishment?"

"Isn't she different?"

"No. As long as something's alive, it doesn't deserve to die."

Shuu sighed, looking away from me, "Anyway. Why don't you go and pack more of your things? Maybe we could do something fun on your last day of freedom."

"You didn't have to word it like that," Dory said, " _Freedom_. There's a literal butterfly garden there."

"I already packed my things. I was gonna go swimming."

"A golden cage is still a cage, Doryo. Swimming? Fine. Run along now, flower."

"But—"

"No. Go on."

I left, not quite understanding why. As I finished packing, I heard shouting from Dory downstairs—no doubt Shuu upsetting him again. I wanted to go and check, but I didn't know if I was allowed to.

Instead, I sat on my bed and tried to contact Lyra. I hadn't thought she'd answer on the first call, so was slightly taken aback.

"Hey," She said. There was a twinge of irritation in her voice.

"Hi, Lyra. Um. I didn't think you'd—"

"Yeah, I'm kinda busy right now, Charlie, what is it?"

"Uh—Are you with the police chief?"

"No. Why?"

"Uh...Well, my frie–Pasha thinks he might've, uh, done something to another detective."

"Yeah, the bitchy one, with the scarf."

"Yeah, and uh, I actually..."

I shook my head, trying to pull myself together.

"I was _actually_ calling," I said, clearer now, "Because I was _so_ worried...I thought maybe he'd go after you, and that would make me _so_ sad."

She laughed, "Yeah! The fucker did come after me, don't you think I could handle it?"

"Oh, of course! Okay, maybe I wasn't worried for you, of course you could handle it, silly me!"

"Yep. Very stupid of you. I'll see you—"

"Where is he? Obviously, you're not like, hurt or anything, right?"

"Don't interrupt me. I'm fine. I've just missed my sweet little angel—what with her running around the country with men—but I'll be fine."

"You just said you were fine. Were you—"

"God, is this a fucking interrogation?"

"...Uh. No. I just—Are you hurt or not?"

"No, but if I was, _hypothetically_ , would a sweet little bunny rabbit come and help me?"

"I don't think bunnies can do that in real life."

"No, you dumb—Ahem. I just mean...If only a pretty little thing were to come and help me. That would be so lucky."

"Ohhhh..." I said, "Um, and where would you be? _Hypothetically_?"

"You know that Catholic cunt?"

I gasped, "Genesis?"

"Is that her name? I don't care. Yeah, in between where she lives—"

"Oh. Are you in the woods? That's so close!"

"Yeah. I'm by this fuck-sized rock thing. There's some pond. Just be quiet, yeah? There are ducks."

"I'll be there as soon as possible."

"I'll wait."

I went to gather some things and get Pasha, but he had taken Dory out for something—fresh air, I think. Shuu must've upset him again.

I saw Shuu in the living room, reading something.

"Oh, there you are—Why do you have a first-aid kit? My sweetheart, are you hurt? Where is it? What have you done now?"

I shook my head, "I'm fine. Where's Pasha?"

"Out. What's going on?"

"I need to meet Lyra."

"You certainly do _not_ need to meet her."

"I think she's hurt."

"So? Let her rot, darling."

"Nu-uh. I have to help her, and maybe Himari's there too. Besides, it's not that far. She says she's in the woods."

"Woods? As in, _my_ woods? Out _there_?"

"Uhuh."

"You're not going out there, not whilst she's there. Urgh, honestly—Can people not read the private property signs? The lack of literacy in this country always astounds me. Pathetic...Hm? Oh, right. You stay right there. I suppose I'll call Pasha and send one of the servants with him to...collect her."

"No, she'll attack anyone else. It has to be me."

"You're not meeting that-that-that _wench_. If I have to lock you in our bedroom to stop you, I will."

"Are you kidding?"

"Not at all. We'll stay here and do something else, come on, you're not leaving my sight until I know she's not here anymore."

"But I have to help. What if Besho—"

"If she dies, she dies. Your little theory's very sentimental and all that, but it's a weakness. You should look out for yourself ( _and me_ ) more than anyone else. Let her die, she's not worth you."

"You-You—How could you say that?"

"Come on, it was hardly groundbreaking. It's just logical," He sighed and stroked my face, "Are you crying for her? _Her_? How extraordinarily weak of you! Aha! Oh, my sweet little thing, my precious flower...I understand. You're just too naive for your own good, such a creature must be wrapped up in cotton and protected from the injustices of this world. You're so lucky, I'll do just that. Just for you. I promise."

"But I have to make sure they're okay—"

"No," He gripped my arm, too tightly for my liking, but he was still smiling affectionately, so maybe I was just being sensitive, "You really don't need to do that, my flower."

I tried to step away, "But Pasha said—"

"He says lots of things. He _thinks_ he knows what to do, but I mean, he got fired, didn't he? I'm sure for more reasons than he claims."

"Pasha wouldn't lie about that."

"How would you know? He doesn't know you like I do, does he? Nor Doryo or anyone else. I mean, they already trapped you into going to that hospital—and you're probably fine. You don't really want it, do you?"

"No, but...I don't want to be miserable anymore."

"Of course. But perhaps," He leaned closer to kiss me, "It's certain people that are making you miserable. Purge them from your little life and you'll be right as rain."

"Like you? You're not making me very happy right now?"

He coughed; more choky than a cough, "Ahah. Well, one must be uncomfortable to improve, you know that, surely. Perhaps your mental condition is merely a result of that woman stalking you, paired with _insufficient_ support...Yes. That must be it. We'll purge the poison and you'll see. You don't have to fly away, my darling, you could stay just here with _me_."

"...I'd rather get actual, professional help. You're hurting my arm."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I must've gotten carried away. Come on," He took my hand, but it felt more parental than romantic, "Let's just forget about all this—"

"I think," I pulled away, "I'll spend time with you later."

"What? Why? What are you going to do?"

"I want..." I said, "I want to be on my own."

"No. You don't."

"I really do."

"What are you going to do?"

"I don't know. I might just go finish my swim. I need to think about something."

"What? Tell me about it, I can help."

"No. I need to think."

I had to leave the first-aid kit there, and made somewhat of a fuss about going back to the pool. I knew I'd be watched—I could see him, pretending to admire flowers in the garden, casting glances to the indoor pool every now and then.

I went into the changing room, waiting for him to look another way, before edging out of an entrance that was closer to the woods. I don't think anyone saw me pick up the key, but I'd always liked to have options, so maybe he did know.

I sprinted into the woods as fast as I could. I didn't hear him call out for me until I was a good few meters in. I prayed that if I ran to find Lyra, he wouldn't be able to catch me beforehand.

I knew where Lyra was, but of course, I was on the wrong side of the woods. I had to skip all the footpaths to get there quicker, which was very painful. Even now, I think I still have splinters leftover from it.

I don't think it took me long to find Lyra, though I have no idea. When I did find her, she was by a clearing, as she'd said, but she wasn't waiting for me.

She was leaned up against the tree, grunting in pain. Her injuries were the worst I'd ever seen. Every part of her was covered in gashes. She was almost unrecognisable.

She saw me and as she did, so did her attacker—Chief Besho, holding a butcher's knife and the shotgun that I assumed had killed his son. He too had cuts, but not like Lyra. He still had most of his face.

Besho and I stared at each other. He was bemused by my swimming clothes, and said something I didn't understand. I was too focused on the gun, and Lyra's mauled face.

As he said what he said, Lyra took a lunge for him, trying to pry the gun from his hands.

It was a foolish decision. Running away would've turned out better for her. For both of us.

But instead, Lyra went for him, and he slammed the knife into his shoulder, and when she recoiled, he shot her in the stomach.

She made some kind of noise. I couldn't describe it. I had never heard such an emotion. I watched, unable to move, as Lyra held her stomach—it's contents now starting to spill out.

I'd never seen someone's organs fall out—I can't imagine many people have. But I saw it.

It looked faker than I imagined, and I had not imagined that Lyra would persist, even as her organs dangled out. She must've known she was going to die, and yet, she carried on.

I wanted to tell her to stop. To lie down and think about something pleasant as her life slipped away. A horrible death, but one soothed by her thoughts.

But Lyra didn't do that. She persisted, she had to, and she did not die peacefully.

She died before she got to Besho. Before she got a final hit on him, he placed the gun to her head and just like that; _dead_.

I watched it happen in such detail—it was both too fast and moved in slow-motion. Her head seemed to explode, bits of brain and eye landed on my face, a piece of something landed in my mouth.

She twitched and didn't fall straight away, as though she was still alive. The headless corpse swayed and stumbled, before Besho poked it with the gun, and it flopped to the floor, still twitching.

I couldn't move, watching the corpse's leaking blood, and twitching. It twitched less and less until it stopped, and any sign of life was gone.

And just like that, Lyra Svensson—the woman who had caused my recent strife—was gone forever. She was dead. Just _gone_. Forever.

And to my surprise, I felt like I had lost a friend, someone incredibly dear to me. Maybe, after everything, I had grown attached to her.

We would never have been friends or partners, not in this Universe, but there was something between us. Not sexual or romantic, not friendly or cruel, just _something._

I haven't felt that something since. I don't think I'll ever find it again. I wish I could remember what it felt like, but like the headless Lyra, it's also gone now. It's simply _dead_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all, this took me way too long.
> 
> I kept getting distracted, and it's Lockdown 3.0 in Wales, and I had my monthly existential crisis, and then got super cold here and we don't have enough money for heating so I had a fun lil   
> ✨ m e n t a l b r e a k d o w n ✨ 
> 
> Which was so fun. Love that for me. The Cosmos is clearing blessing me rn. (Personally, I'd rather it gored me than make me go through mental illness, but go off I guess)
> 
> Anyway. I'm still trying to claw myself back from that, I hope y'all can understand 
> 
> I'm getting so excited to finish this and start posting the new story, and I've kinda been posting about it on social media. 
> 
> Idk...maybe u could...follow me on Instagram and see all the extra content...??🥺🥺👉👈
> 
> Also, I'm posting on Tumblr a lot now, and most of it's writing content, (@itscooltoeattoothpaste). I recently posted all the new and current characters as blursed memes, and next week I'll (hopefully) be making mood boards for all the characters. These mood boards are probably gonna be a lot different than the ones on Pinterest, so feel free to check them out when that happens!
> 
> So, yeah, we're hopefully back on track with this story and it only has one or two chapters left, so it shouldn't take as long. (I haven't got the last few parts right and they're kinda important)
> 
> I hope y'all are as excited as me for the new, edited, total crackhead version of this story, because I am.
> 
> Thank you for reading this chapter. I hope you all have a lovely day, and remember to always be gay, do crime, devote yourself to the cosmic overlords, and most importantly; stay safe!
> 
> See you all soon! (Or maybe even sooner if u follow me on Insta—Okay. I'll stop).


	43. NOT A CHAPTER—A cute lil update

Hi, everyone! This isn't a chapter (sorry) but a lil update on this story and its next version.

Unfortunately, there will be no new chapter this week. This is because (as many of you know) I am currently rewriting it and am literally about to finish its first draft. I'd much rather all my effort be spent on working on that before this current version finishes.

The current version and the rewritten one have very different plots and characters, but somehow have almost the same ending.

As I'm about to finish this version and the first draft of the rewritten, I'd rather write the ending for the rewritten, edit and adjust it for this versiom, then edit it more and adjust again for the rewritten one.

That makes sense, right?

Basically; I'm finishing the rewritten one so I can finish this one. Kinda.

I don't know when the rewritten version will be finished, but I'm hoping to publish it completely edited immediately after this story. It will be published weekly.

When this version of ALI is finished, I'll either move it to a new story so you guys can still finish it (though why you'd wanna do that I don't know) or I'll replace it completely with the new version, (bc views). Tell me what you guys would prefer.

In regards to the next version of ALI—It's absolutely fucking wild. We have the same basic characters, but some of them got renamed or got their personality redid. And we have some new characters, like a goth lesbian milf who's totally not a vampire, and a stuffed alien that totally isn't a lovecraftian monster.

Also, we have more aliens, clowns, we eat crayons, tragic pasts, government conspiracies, and meth.

So yeah, if that's not a good advertisement, I don't know what is.

(Plug: For updates, sneak-peeks, memes and me talking about how great I am, follow me on Instagram; toastyyghost. And for some character aesthetics, go to Pinterest; Ghostytoast, ALI Characters. Follow me or you'll get vaporized by a cosmic entity 😊)

Anyway, if I may move our intentions away from aliens, clowns and eating crayons; I'd also like to wish everyone a Happy Holidays and a very Happy New Year.

2021 probably won't be much better than 2020, but we'll get through it. Hopefully. Who knows, maybe we'll find aliens? Maybe they'll be friendly, or maybe they'll eat your cat and demand all our vegan strawberry milk.

Either way, in 2021 you should consume positivity and only positivity, it's not toxic, I swear.

That's all I have to say for today. Thanks for reading, and I'll see you next year.

Byeee!


	44. Another update bc I am a failure + Sneak Peeks

Not me still being behind on updates—

Yes. It is me, and I am still behind, but I swear, I am working my little arse off to get this done as soon as possible.

I really don't want to rush my writing, and my mental health is shaky at the best of times, so I really don't want to make it worse by staying up late or missing workouts to work on this.

I know it might be frustrating, but please, bear with me.

This should be the last update before the next chapter, (I pray), so hopefully in the next three weeks, you'll have something.

Maybe I could do some kind of one-off meme chapter or something whilst we wait. Would anyone want that? What would you want? Because I know if I had the chance, it would just be a chapter filled with memes.

I'll probably delete these updates when we're back on track, but today I thought I'd update everyone and give some more shameless self-promotion, but also a little sneak peek at the next version of ALI (spoiler-free for both versions, I swear).

Most of the sneaks are out of context and pretty silly on their own, but I thought it'd be fun to show you a few of them. Obviously they won't reveal much about the plot, and the entire rewrite isn't just a total meme, I swear, this is just for fun.

I'm very excited for you all to read it, and I hope it'll be worth the wait. So, here are your sneak peeks, (and propaganda for the Mother Planet, but remember; see nothing, say nothing and drink to forget).

Sadly, I haven’t worked out how to put images in chapters yet, so I can't show y'all the new cover until we're on the new version. Sad times, I know.

But ya know...If you wanted to see it, you could maybe follow my Instagram (@toastyyghost), hm? Hmmm?

Anyway, as I was saying...

I won't go into too much detail about the plot of the new version, but I will say that the newer plot has more of a generalised focus on Tokyo Ghoul, rather than being based off of one character. It's more of an AU than this one, I think. The government plays a big role, and ghouls become more cosmic, but we also might have some other cosmic beings in the background too.

It's basically about a bunch of idiots going through psychological trauma and toxic relationships whilst dealing with the idea of aliens and a higher lovecraftian presence, (based on a true story).

Further on, we'll look at ghoul science and origin—we basically explore the origin of ghouls and how they exist. It's really fun to write, because I love biology and space science, so it's just a really cool experience.

I've definitely enjoyed writing this version of ALI more than the current one, and I hope it shows in my work.

As for characters, we basically have the same cast, aside from some new characters, and we have a pretty obvious name change.

The MC was called Charlotte Fisher (totally not auto generated), but I gave her more of a fun, Welsher name. Her new name is Bunny Deverill, (perfect stripper name for a perfect stripper).

That's the only big name change, but one character in particular has had a huge personality shift that I won't spoil.

Also, a load of characters got yeeted from existence. Rip, I guess.

That's about all I'll reveal about the plot and characters, but I promised sneak peeks, didn't I?

This is all going to sound like random out of context quotes that someone made whilst high, which they probably actually are. So, enjoy your sneak peeks. I hope they bring some kind of enjoyment to you:

1\. When you want to eat a literal star:

_'It was a teeny-tiny star; a baby-sun._

_I wanted it. I wanted to touch it, to keep it in jewellery, to wear it in my hair. I wanted it to be inside of me. I wanted to become it._

_I followed it, knowing I would consume it.'_

2\. I can't actually remember writing this lol

_'Threes, shut up, the ten is talking.'_

_'I'msorry? I'm at least a nine point five.'_

_'Everyone's a three around me, actually.'_

3\. Me describing my actions:

_'They're disgusting, confusing, and pretty gay.'_

4\. I—

_'You shouldn't insult her. She's friends with the cosmos.'_

_'...What?'_

5\. The characters in this book are very humble:

_'Don't compare yourself to me, you'll get depressed.'_

6\. When you get to speak to a God and all you can ask is:

_'Woaaaaah. What should we ask?_

_'Ask them about the reptilians...And ask why they sound like Danny Devito.'_

7\. Did I mention we have gay?

_'Because I'm fifty percent iced coffee.'_

_'And a hundred percent twink?'_

_'Exactly.'_

8\. 'Shut the fuck up, Zuki,' happens about twelve times in this book. It's always about the aliens too.

_'No, you guys,they're not actually a stuffed toy. They're a greater cosmic being.'_

_'I'm pretty sure it's not–'_

_'Shut the fuck up, Zuki, they're about to tell us about the reptilians.'_

9\. This will also become a running theme.

_'It tastes nice.'_

_'Dude, that's like, chlorine. It's in bleach.'_

_'Yeah. Bleach doesn't taste that nice, and it's not worth the hospital visit.'_

10\. I'm ashamed of what I've done.

_'But I thought you were a furry?'_

_'No. I'm just gay.'_

_'But you draw all that porn-'_

_'Yeah, for money...I'm not like, into it.'_

11\. Basically the plot:

_'They've returned to a superior realm. We've lost them.'_

_'But...the reptilians?'_

_'They'll come back.'_

_'I bet they won't...This is all your fault, Zuki.'_

_'I'm literally just standing here.'_

_'Bunny? Why do I smell burning?'_

_'Oh, that's just the crayons.'_

_'Wh-You're not–'_

_'They taste better when you microwave them, okay?'_

That's all your sneaks for today, folks!

As for my self-promo: I'm now pretty active on Tumblr, @itscooltoeattoothpaste (or @eatcrayons, idk).

My Instagram gets promoted every chapter now, so y'all know it's @toastyyghost. We post memes there, mental trauma, more sneak peeks, and early updates on the story, also pictures of my puppy.

Well, that's all I have to say for now. I'll hopefully see you all with new content.

Remember to be safe everyone, and stay hydrated! And to everyone who wasn't vaporised; happy 2021!

xxx


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